


Republic Commando: Phi Squad

by RC_5280



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 73,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RC_5280/pseuds/RC_5280
Summary: The CLONE WARS rage across the Galaxy. Chancellor Palpatine relies on his clone soldiers to defeat the SEPARATISTS, among them the elite clone commandos of PHI SQUAD. Follow Ajax, Buckler, Ka'rta, Ca'ad, and the rest of the GAR in their desperate attempts to stay alive and defeat the droid army!
Kudos: 5





	1. Short: Survival Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long before the Separatist Crisis that begins the Clone War on Geonosis, a squad of clone commandos train for the inevitable conflict...

_**Two Years Before the Battle of Geonosis, Tipoca City, Forest Environment Simulator** _

Things were starting to go south fast. The four-man squad had already run out of ration cubes, and they still had five weeks to go before their training sergeant, Rav Bralor, turned off the sim and unlocked the door.

Eight had forgotten where the door was after he crawled through nerf guts at the entrance. That would disorient anybody. His HUD wouldn’t even give him a compass bearing like it normally would. In fact, all the helmet’s systems seemed to be acting up.

The HUD suddenly flashed a red battery warning and blinked off. He was alone, with only his squad for company. It was a good thing Bralor had taught them what plants were edible and how to hunt and fish with their bare hands. The tech was good, but it would do them no good after a few weeks in a jamming field. Obviously. The battery was already dead.

Eight shifted the weight around on his back a little. They had already been hiking for five hours, and the forty-kilo pack was beginning to weigh on his shoulders and hips. “We’ll set up camp here,” the sergeant declared.

“What did you say, thirty-six oh-eight?” Six asked, his voice amplified enough for Eight to hear through his helmet. “Your comm’s out.”

Eight unsealed and slipped off his helmet. “Dead battery,” he explained, turning to face his comrades. He had the face of Jango Fett, and close-cropped hair like the genetic donor.

All four of them were wearing identical grey-white Katarn-class armor. It wasn’t ideal for camouflage in the pine forest environment.

“This looks like a nice place to set up camp,” Three suggested, slipping off his own helmet. The crew-cut hair and brown eyebrows on his head wouldn't survive the night.

Eight quietly clenched his teeth. “That’s what I just decided,” he said, trying not to sound testy.

“Oh. Well, good choice,” Three replied, unbuckling his survival pack from his back armor plate. He pulled a two-man tent off the bottom of it, taking it out of its tube and unrolling the fabric. “Zero, the poles?”

Zero, the last one in the line, unbuckled his own pack, electing to keep his helmet on. He pulled three telescoping tent poles out of the side of his pack. “Here you go, thirty-three.” The medic tossed the poles to his squadmate, who caught them easily. “Should Three and I start collecting wood for a campfire tonight?” Zero asked his leader. Three already had the tent well under control, everything but the rain fly taken care of.

Eight unclipped his own pack, sliding out the poles to his and Six’s tent. “Go ahead. Just remember the low impact rules and don’t light the trees on fire. Don’t give away our position, either.”

Zero trotted off to find some dry wood to burn, followed after a few seconds by Three.

“Seventy-six, do you want to set up the tent tonight or should I?” Eight wondered.

“I’ll do it,” Six answered, grudgingly. “As long as someone else guts the fish tonight. I can’t get the smell out of my helmet.”

“That’s why you don’t use your bucket as the cutting board,” Zero replied from the edge of the forest. “Use the _shabla_ arm plates, or the survival pack, or something else.”

Six groaned grumpily, shrugging off his backpack.

“Something the matter?” Eight wondered. “You seem a little… moody.”

Six glanced around, noticing Zero was tucked behind a tree. “It’s this place, Eight. I don’t like it here. And... Zero’s getting on my nerves a bit, and Three won’t shut up about his kit.” _I don’t know why I’m telling_ you _this._

“Their enthusiasm will die eventually, if eight years together has taught me anything,” Eight consoled. “Or is it sixteen? I know we age twice as fast as normal humans.” _But none of them remember being born. I still remember the view from my growth jar._

Zero poked his head around the tree, his fist full of sticks. “Tent isn’t going to set itself up, you know.”

Eight glared at him, his frown saying more than he cared to.

Zero ducked back behind the tree, correctly interpreting the gaze.

“See what I mean?” Six said, slumping back down into a heap.

Eight realized the tent wouldn’t be getting put up unless he did it himself. He began extending the poles, glancing over occasionally at the heap that was Six. As he put one end of the pole into the tent, he realized the best thing Six could do for himself. What he could do for Six.

Eight tossed the other pole to his squadmate. “Grab that other side for me, would you, please?”

Six didn’t catch the pole, but picked it up off the ground with a bit of a sour expression. He attached the pole to the tent, not changing his expression or saying a word.

Eight adopted the muted demeanor, unrolling the rain fly in Six’s direction. Six got the hint, picking up his side of the fly and attaching it to the tent. When that was done, Eight threw him some stakes. This time, he caught the materials thrown to him.

That made Eight smile. He knew that he had done the right thing to help his brother.

Three was returning, his arms full of large-diameter wood. It was time to start the campfire.

He yelled, “Zero, you got the kindling?”

Zero replied by walking out of the forest, displaying both arms, which each held bundles of smaller sticks.

“Sweet,” Three said, setting down his woodpile next to a good candidate for a fire ring. The area was free of tree branches above, and no grass or bushes were growing for at least three meters in any direction. It was perfect.

Six quietly crawled into the tent he had helped Eight set up.

Eight walked over to the future campfire ring, and found a nice log to sit on.

Three started arranging sticks for the fire, and set a blasting cap in the middle. That was how he would light the fire. No matches for the demolitions expert.

Eight noticed the strange lighting method, but said nothing. Three had had the same training as him, but with a special emphasis on explosives. He trusted the expert’s judgement, but grabbed his bucket from nearby just to be safe.

Zero set down the smaller wood right where Three was kneeling, then retreated to a safe distance. He had noticed how things tended to explode when Three was involved.

Three heaped the sticks on top of his blasting cap, calling it good enough to get the fire going. Then he pulled the detonator out of his belt, beginning the countdown from three.

“Fire in the hole, three… two… one.”

Three clicked the button, and the blasting cap went off, lighting some of the kindling, but mostly spraying it upwards and towards Three’s face. A lighted stick drew a neat gash across his forehead, lighting his eyebrows and his close-cut black hair on fire. The gash extended from where his left eyebrow had been to where his hairline should have been. The flaming stick was so hot that the wound didn’t even bleed; it was already cauterized.

Three’s hair burned, singing his scalp all the way through. The top of his head became one large third-degree burn. It would take several weeks of intensive bacta treatments to make it heal, but even at that, he would never be able to grow hair again.

The burns were so deep that Three didn’t feel any pain. He just collapsed, buckling under the heat.

Zero, being the squad medic, rushed over, grabbing the medkit from his pack and opening it. He would have to use a cravat bandage over a thick layer of bacta gel to cover all the burned area. It was bad. Really bad. Worse than any holo Bralor had ever shown him—and she had shown him some pretty gruesome things.

The worst part was that this was his brother. This was someone with whom he shared a face, a life’s story. It was like he was operating on himself.

****

Bralor watched in horror as Three collapsed, his scalp a charred crisp of what it should have been. It was a stupid mistake. How had Eight let this happen under his nose?

No, she reminded herself, this wasn’t his fault. It was hers. She had never thought to tell them how _not_ to start a campfire. She had thought it would give them ideas.

Ideas they would come up with on their own. She sighed, knowing this was her failure and that she could do nothing about it.

Well, there _was_ one thing…

_No. This isn’t life-or-death. They have to learn that the mission goes on, even when somebody gets hurt. I’ve seen people survive similar injuries. I won’t stop the training. Not for this._

_****_

Eight felt rotten. He had let Three do an incredibly stupid thing, and now look at what happened. The demoman’s scalp was burned beyond repair and he had a gash that would probably become a scar.

 _I should have said something,_ Eight scolded himself. _I knew it was a bad idea and I brushed it off like it was nothing. This is completely my fault._

Noticing a rumbling in his stomach, Eight took it upon himself to build and light the campfire. Soon, there was a small, calm blaze where there had been chaos moments prior. Now all they needed was something to cook on it. That part could wait a while.

Zero had gotten Three into a sitting position, and had finished bandaging the other’s head. “There,” he said, patting his brother on the back, “all finished.”

Three shivered, not from the cold so much as from embarrassment. “Thanks, Zero.”

“You know,” Zero said, sitting cross-legged next to the fire, “I’ve always hated that ‘nickname.’ It feels dehumanizing, especially the fact that I’m called Zero. As in zilch. Nothing. Besides, all the other commando squads have real nicknames for each other. Like Scorch, Darman, Fixer, and Atin.”

“Well, let’s think about it over the campfire,” Eight suggested. “We can think of names for each other right now.”

“I’ve got one for Six,” Zero chuckled. “Ca’ad.”

Eight raised an eyebrow. “Child of night? What makes you call him that?”

“Ever notice how he always tries to duck into that tent as soon as it’s up?” Zero pointed out. “And besides that, he keeps trying to get us that black night ops armor.”

“Fair point,” Eight conceded. “Six, what do you say to being called Ca’ad?”

“Sounds better than being called ‘Six,’” he replied, his bored and melancholic tones floating out of the tent.

“Ca’ad it is, then. Oh, and get out of that tent and join us. You have no reason to mope alone,” Eight ordered. “Three, how about we call you ‘Buckler,’ since ‘Scorch’ is already taken.”

“Why ‘Buckler?’” Three wondered, noticing Ca’ad slinking over to their fire.

“Well,” Eight answered, “you tend to make things bend out of shape. You buckle when you’re in intense pain, like just now. And… I mean this in the nicest way possible, but… you kind of collapse under pressure.”

“I like it, except for that last part,” Three remarked. “Buckler. It’s got a nice ring to it.”

“Ooh, I’ve got one for you, Eight,” Zero declared, excitedly. “Ajax. Remember when Bralor told us about the ancient Taung chieftains?”

“Yeah, I do,” the squad leader remarked. “Ajax was the strongest and bravest. You flatter me.”

“Hey,” Zero brushed off, “I just call it as I see it. Honest. _Mandalor_ as my witness.”

“That just leaves you, Zero,” Buckler said. “What do we call you?”

Zero thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe…” the thought trailed off. “No, that’s a dumb idea. Let’s sing some songs. That ought to give me something.”

“‘ _Vode An_?’” Ajax suggested.

The other two murmured in agreement. Then Ajax began to tap out the drum rhythm on his leg. One, triplet, three, triplet…

“ _Kote!  
Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.  
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.  
Bal kote, darasuum kote,  
Jorso'ran kando a tome.  
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an._

_Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.  
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.  
Bal...  
Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.  
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.  
Aruetyc talyc runi'la solus cet o'r.  
Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.  
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.  
Aruetyc talyc runi'la trattok'o.  
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an!”_

_**********_

Translated, the chant is:

Glory!  
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.  
We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.  
And glory, eternal glory,  
We shall bear its weight together.  
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.  
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.  
We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.  
And...  
Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.  
Our vengeance burns brighter still.  
Every last traitorous soul shall kneel.  
Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.  
Our vengeance burns brighter still.  
Every last traitorous soul shall fall.  
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all!

**********

“Still not getting any ideas,” Zero reported. “Let’s try ‘ _Ka’rta Tor._ ’”

“Fine by me,” Ajax said. He began tapping the same rhythm on his leg plates.

“ _Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,  
Troan teroch jetiise a'den,  
Duraan vi at ara'nov.  
Vode an, ka'rta tor.  
Kote.”_

_**********_

As ruthless as Death itself,  
The pitiless face of The Jedi's wrath,  
Let us look down on all who are before us.  
Brothers all, one heart of justice.  
Glory.

**********

“That’s it!” Ca’ad exclaimed. “Your name.”

“Kote?” Zero asked. “I don’t think a concept like glory makes for a very good name.”

“No, no, no,” Ca’ad corrected. “Ka’rta. Heart. You’ve been at the center of this team since the very beginning. You suggested we take names instead of just our numbers. You started us singing around this campfire. It was your idea to have a campfire in the first place. You care about each of us on the deepest level; you are so full of empathy. _You_ are the beating heart of Phi Squad.”

“I like that. I like that a lot.”

“Ajax, Buckler, Ka'rta, and Ca’ad,” Ajax said. “Phi Squad. Here’s to a new day.” He put his hand in the middle of the circle, and the other three followed suit.

“A new day,” they repeated, four voices becoming one. They released their hands from the circle, again, for a time, becoming individuals.


	2. Prologue: Before the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long-worded introduction to some background behind Phi Squad, this prologue frames the narrative as Ka'rta's attempt to document the Clone Wars for posterity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prologue has a very different tone from the rest of the story, which reads more like "Survival Training." Feel free to skip this one if it bores you (but I highly encourage you to read it, since there's valuable exposition!).

### From the audio journal of RC-5280, hours before the Battle of Geonosis, recorded on Kamino

“It was a dark and stormy night when I was born. I know that’s no way to start a story, but hear me out. There really isn’t a better way to describe the nighttime on Kamino. Or the daytime. Dark and stormy.

“I should probably give you a little background about myself. I’m designated as a Republic Commando, created by the Kaminoans from the genetic template of Jango Fett. Engineered to be a super soldier. Or so I’ve been told. It’s kind of a hard life. They had us doing live-fire simulations when we were just two standard years old. Biologically, that’s the equivalent of four years old. Yeah, we clones age fast.

“The unit I’m with is called Phi Squad. It consists of me, RC-9726, RC-3608, and my best friend, RC-8233. When we’re alone, we never use numbers. Everybody calls me Ka’rta. I’m the medic. My name is the Mando’a word for 'heart' or 'soul.' Oh-eight, our leader, is called Ajax, an ancient Taung warrior’s name. Two-six, the sniper, is named Ca’ad. It means 'child of night.' Sometimes, he can be really dark and brooding. Thirty-three, Buckler, works as the squad slicer and demolitions expert. Buckler…” this was a moment of reminiscence, accompanied by a faint chuckle. “His name comes from the ‘buckling’ effect of his favorite bombs.

“We’re a squad. We fight together, we train together, and we never leave a man behind. Special operations are a tough job for a squad of four. At least we’ve got an entire army supporting us.”

He laughed aloud.

“We could survive as an entire army, though. That’s a credit to our training and Sergeant Bralor. Our kit, too. The DC-17m Interchangeable Weapons System is a beautiful gun. Best blaster you could ask for in a tight spot. Full auto mode, sniper rifle, and anti-armor all rolled up into a neat little package. The armor isn't bad, either. They call it Katarn armor. Twenty kilos of plastoid that will save your life countless times. Even resistant to three-kiloton explosions. You can paint it, too. It even has personal deflector shields for those tight spots that you wouldn't get out of otherwise. Oh, the biometric sensors provide nice data. Especially for someone in _my_ line of work. Those readouts are essential for my job as a medic.”

He stopped speaking, gathering his thoughts.

“The survival training is the hardest part of it all, I think. Going days without so much as a bland ration cube is hard living. Crawling through nerf guts just after a meal is even worse. Gives us a good, hard stomach, though.”

There was a pause in the audio for several seconds at this point. Ka'rta was debating whether or not he should say what was on his mind.

“There have been some rumors going around that the Republic and the Jedi don’t know about us yet. That we’re a secret weapon. I guess the crisis hasn't escalated to the point of war yet. All I know are the _shabla_ rumors going around the training grounds. Never trust the rumors.”

Another pause, shorter this time. It could be quite hard to think of anything to say, especially when speaking was the only thing on your mind. There were so many things to say. Where was one to begin?

“Sergeant Bralor raised us as Mando'ade. ‘Children of Mandalore.’ It’s an honorable title I’d like to live up to. She’s been a mother to us clones. We have nobody else. We were born in kriffing _vats_ , if you hadn't noticed. Rav Bralor saved us from being _dar’manda,_ those without honor, without souls. My Mando heritage is part of the story of my name. I have a heart. I have a soul.”

There was a faint male voice in the background, indistinguishable from Ka’rta’s to an untrained ear.

“Sounds like this is the end of this entry. I have to log off. They’re calling us to the training grounds, to face the thunder and lightning out there. I think Ajax said we’re getting deployed.”


	3. Part One: Geonosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WAR! The Separatists are producing a massive droid army on Geonosis. When the Jedi Council discovers this, they unleash the full might of the clone army, including Phi Squad, to repel the vast hordes of battle droids...

" _The Republic Commandos are the_ best. _I'm honored to have taught and led these incredible soldiers. They're easier to work with than most Mando'ade I've encountered. I am sure you will realize the benefit of both their genes and their training."_

Sergeant Rav Bralor, Cuy'val Dar, in a transmission to Master Arligan Zey

_**0700 Hours, Battle of Geonosis, Month 5, Day 22, 22 BBY, remote canyon 2 km South of front lines** _

Thunder. And lightning. Or was it the booming and flashes of explosions? Ka'rta certainly couldn't tell, taking the sounds and flickering light to be the weather on his homeworld. He was abruptly woken by his sergeant, now that they were in the field, Ajax. Sergeant Bralor was still on Kamino. They had been deployed so rapidly, none of them had had the chance to say a proper goodbye. It tended to leave a gap.

It wasn't the thunder and lightning of Kamino Ka'rta had been hearing all this time. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of explosions and blaster fire on Geonosis.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," came the familiar, smooth sound of Ajax's voice.

"Were we fighting?" Ka'rta said weakly. "Did I get shot?"

"Yeah, you were hit. We got evacced from the battle zone and you were still incapped. Buckler gave you a quick dose of bacta, and you slept pretty soundly."

"Good to know. Thanks, eight." Ka'rta blinked his eyes, activating his HUD. A flurry of data came rushing at him, in all shapes and colors. A quick glance off to the side, and he could hear the sounds of battle chatter through the audio system he'd just activated. He wanted to find out what was going on on the frontline two klicks out. Through the static, he could begin to make out the chatter. He knocked on his bucket a couple of times, and just like that, the static was gone.

"...point five two, headed your way."

 _That's not a CT's voice,_ Ka'rta found himself thinking. _Sounds like an Alpha ARC._

"Copy that, Commander. Two tin cans, mark five two."

_Commander. That explains a lot._

The unforgettable sound of Geonosian wingbeats came through the comlink. Ka'rta instinctively ducked.

"Did I forget to mention the bugs?" The voice of the commander.

"Yes, sir," the trooper replied. "You didn't tell us there were bugs around here."

Ka'rta slowly began to get up from his instinctive duck.

"Listening in on the battle?" inquired Ca'ad. He looked quite relaxed, sitting there in his matte black night ops armor. Ka'rta tuned his audio systems back to the squad channel. The nice thing about the specialized Katarn helmetwas that nobody could tell what was going on in your bucket unless you had the comlink on, or you didn't hide your body language. You could be having a heated argument underneath those helmets, and nobody outside would know the difference.

"Yeah. Remind me not to do that so soon after sleeping. Especially after the flashbacks I keep having. You remember some of those sims, don't you?"

"Don't listen to battle chatter this early," Ca'ad responded, reaching out to Ka'rta with a joke, something to lift his spirits.

"Yeah, thanks. Big help _now_ ," Ka'rta said, rolling his eyes, obviously responsive to Ca'ad's little attempt at humor.

Buckler looked up from calibrating his explosive DC-17m anti-armor attachment. "Look who finally decided to join us for caf. Now I get to be a little louder, nobody left to wake up."

"Don't waste our ordinance, Buck. You know I'll have a fit when we don't have enough for a door breach," replied Ajax. "Waking Ka'rta up wasn't the only reason I said 'no.' That's _still_ my answer."

"Fine," grumbled Buckler. "Just as long as I handle the ordinance next mission."

Ca'ad looked up. "Looks like that next mission starts a little sooner than we thought."

Phi Squad turned their heads in perfect unison to look for an incoming LAAT/i. The distinctive profile of the clone dropship, basically a trapezoid with slightly A-shaped wings, was incredibly hard to miss.

 _Why does he always see things before the rest of us? Must be why he's the sniper_ , thought Ka'rta. Then his HUD locked onto an incoming vessel. He looked at his squad's POV icons. They saw it, too.

"Well, looks like somebody thought we did a good job with that shield generator yesterday. Too bad we couldn't have helped Delta retrieve those Sep launch codes," commented Ca'ad.

"Yeah. I would've liked a shot at that coreship console," commented Buckler. "But the sound that shield generator made when it went up in smoke was more than satisfying."

"Stow it, both of you. And get your _shebse_ on that transport when it lands. I don't want any chatter while we're getting briefed," commanded Ajax as the familiar, relieving sound of gunship engines blasted over them.

The gunship landed and its doors slid open to reveal a shiny white-armored, figure, white armor trimmed with blue. "Phi Squad, you're getting put back on the front line. I'll brief you on the way," the clone lieutenant's voice said.

"You heard the man, boys, shift it!" ordered Ajax. "Come on, get in that larty _now!_ " Armor plates cracked against one another as Phi Squad filed into the transport.

The lieutenant began his briefing promptly. "For this mission, you'll be joined by a potentially familiar face from Kamino; N-11 'Ordo.' If you ever worked with Kal Skirata, you'll know Ordo. He's already on the ground waiting for you."

Ka'rta interjected, "I know Ordo. He's one of the Nulls. Skirata's 'instant death on legs.'" He opened his mouth to speak again.

Ajax glared coldly. "Let the good lieutenant finish telling us about our mission and I might just let you off this time. Next time, just save the comments for after the briefing.

"Sorry, boss-man."

"Thank you, sergeant," resumed the lieutenant. "Now, then, where was I? Right. Your mission is to recover data from a Sep bunker we captured about 15 klicks out. It's coded for self-destruct, so be careful. The second part of your mission will be to find and arrest Nemoidian general Manri Shaelon. Whatever happens, we want him back _alive._ " The lieutenant paused to let the urgency of the command sink in. "I'll provide you with intel and objectives," he resumed. "We'll keep in touch via comlink. Good luck, and have fun down there."

"Oh, I will. Slicing and takedown? Always fun," commented Buckler. Ajax looked over at him. Even through his helmet, the squad could see his trademark "shut up and get to work" death glare. Buckler fell silent.

The LAAT/i landed with a dull thump and the doors parted. Outside stood a formidable-looking ARC captain. A clone could tell he was an ARC from the sharply cut pauldron and neat kama.

"I'm Captain N-11," the captain announced. "Call me Ordo. You lot are going to be taking orders from _me,_ not from that stuffy, reg lieutenant. The only thing he's good for is relaying orders from HQ. But out here, you follow my lead. Got it?"

The four commandos nodded an affirmative in incredible synchronization.

"Good. I like a unit who understands its place. And the men in that unit. _Let's move!_ " the Null ARC commanded. Phi Squad moved as a single body to follow Ordo.

"I never got the chance to thank you about that time Mereel shoved my head down the 'freshers back on Kamino. Thanks for coming to my aid," said Ka'rta to break the silence.

"I'm beginning to see why he did that. Maybe he did it to teach you about what happens to _annoying_ shabla _smart-asses like you._ "

If you thought Alpha-batch ARCs were tough, you were _really_ in for a surprise from the Nulls. Dubbed "uncommandable" by the Kaminoans when they were just four, they could kill you before you realized you were dead, or show you what fierce loyalty meant. Right now, Ordo was walking the fine line between the two extremes, and not doing a very convincing job of it. The thought of killing a brother was inconceivable for Ordo. He hoped Ka'rta would decide to shut up. The squad medic did just that.

An explosion boomed in the distance. Ajax's distinctive purple-striped helmet swiveled toward the sound. "I think they're having some fun out there at the frontline." He frowned. "A little too _much_ fun."

Buckler tried to stifle a laugh and failed. "I wish I was out there with them. That blast sounded like a _lot_ of fun."

Ca'ad spoke up. "Yeah, I gotta admit, vibroblading droids would be a _lot_ more fun than this."

Ka'rta maintained his silence. Ordo spoke instead, a little tension obvious in his voice. "Focus, Phi. An ARC is trained to work alone, and I'd _much_ rather do that than listen to you lot grumbling. Either shut up or go join them."

"Getting a little pissy there, eh Ordo?" Ka'rta commented. "We're just spouting some bravado. Nothing to lose your temper at."

Ordo body-slammed him to the ground and ejected a vibroblade from his gauntlet. "You shut it _now_ and I might just let that comment slide. Otherwise, you'll find out what a droid feels when you shove a blade in its neck. Understand?"

Ka'rta nodded feebly. "Got it, _sir._ "

Ordo got up off him and offered his arm. Ka'rta took it.

"Eighty, _try_ to remember what Sergeant Bralor told us about wisecracking on the battlefield and when to stow it," directed Ajax. "In fact, try to remember _everything_ she told us about people skills."

Ca'ad snickered. "While you're at it, remember what she said about _shooting straight_."

A green and yellow knuckle plate collided with Ca'ad's visor. Buckler was angry. "Lay off him, six. We all make mistakes on occasion. Especially when none of us got enough sleep. And I know for a fact that Ka'rta was the only one who got so much as _a_ wink last night, much less _forty._ "

Ca'ad took up a fighting stance, preparing to retaliate. "So you want me to grab a stress ball or something? We're not exactly watching holovids in the barracks here. This is war. We can't _afford_ to lose time calming down. Like Bralor always told us, we're more effective fighters when we're on edge."

"She also told us to save the fighting for the droids." Ajax now. "So, break it up. Shake hands. _Now_. And make sure you _mean_ it"

The two shook hands. "Sorry about that, eighty. Buckler's right, none of us got enough sleep. Still _vode?_ "

" _Vode an,"_ replied Ka'rta and Buckler in one voice. Yet again, they were "brothers all."

Ordo turned. "All the touchy-feely stuff over yet? We've got a job to do, if you haven't noticed."

Ajax spoke for the squad. "Yes, sir. And we're ready to do whatever HQ needs. Right?"

" _Sir,_ yes, _sir!"_ the other three shouted.

"Good. We're almost there. Oh, check your helmet seals," Ordo added. "We encountered a little gas problem earlier trying to slice the data. When we checked for other traps, there was, among other things, an IED, an auto-turret system, and a droid dispenser in the back. That's why we called in the commandos. Better slicers, tougher armor, and better training."

"I just _love_ a good data slice," added Buckler.

For the rest of the walk, Phi Squad shuffled along behind the Null ARC captain in silence.

_**1000 hours, Day Two of the Battle of Geonosis, Republic-controlled bunker** _

"It looks like it's been deserted for some time," Ka'rta commented.

Ordo checked his chrono. "Last time somebody was here was five hours ago. Oh, I might have forgotten to mention that system reset is set for twenty-four hundred tonight. So get cracking."

Buckler walked over to the console through a mess of fallen pipes and loose wires hanging from the ceiling. "This place sure is a mess." He sat down and started typing.

"Ordo mentioned an IED. Let's disarm it before Buckler triggers it," Ajax directed.

"Hold on a minute. Let me make a backup of this computer before we try _anything._ "

"Already tried. That's what triggered the system reset. I'm sure if you try again, all the data will be wiped," cautioned Ordo.

"Did the last person to hack this console get past the security authorization?" Buckler leaned back in his chair.

"How did you do that? Seriously, that's impressive," responded Ca'ad.

"The captain said I was on a timetable, so I got out my bag of quick fixes. Downloading the data now." Buckler gloated, holding up his datapad.

"Good work, thirty-three. I like someone who can complete a mission quickly and without questions." Ordo glared at Ka'rta. "But we're not done yet. Remember your next objective?"

Ajax joined in. "Yeah, that Neimie general Manri Shaelon, right?"

"That's him," Ordo confirmed.

Everything was going smoothly for Phi Squad. In less than a blink of an eye, that changed. The alarm had been triggered.

"Status report," demanded Ordo.

"I don't know what went wrong, sir. I must have tripped the firewall. And according to this display, it's going to make a big 'boom' if I can't enter the password in thirty seconds." Buckler gulped. "I didn't think to reset it. I got into the system, so why would I need the password? Stang, we're in for it now. This is the one kind of explosion I don't like."

Ka'rta went over to the maintenance panel on the console. Sure enough, there was a bomb. He started to defuse it. "Fierfek. I can't remember which wire it's supposed to be. Red-red-green or red-green-red?"

"Wait a minute, don't you always say that?" Buckler questioned.

"Not _always_. Also, shut up. I need to think. What's the blast rating on this body bucket?" Ka'rta searched for the rating on his HUD. "Got it. Rated to withstand a three-kiloton boom. Alright." He exhaled deeply.

"Fifteen seconds."

"This isn't one of the types of explosives they trained us to disarm," he concluded after going back through his explosive ordnance disposal training. _I'll have to guess. Risky, but the risk is worth it if I can pull this off._ "Get out of here, all of you! I'm guessing from here on, so anything goes. The armor can withstand the blast, but the shrapnel will kill you. _Get out! Now!"_ he yelled.

The squad filed out, ready to hit the deck in an instant.

Ka'rta cut the first wire, exhaling in relief when nothing exploded. The wire he cut next, however, was the wrong one. The explosion sent him flying onto his back. He got lucky. The shrapnel either missed him completely or glanced unconvincingly off his armor. Moments later, he began to hear faint voices.

"Eighty, you still with us? Ka'rta?"

" _Vod_ , can you hear us?... Are you alive?"

"He must be underneath that rubble. Clear a path." That must have been Ordo.

A green and yellow helmet appeared over him. "Fierfek, he must be hurt," Buckler announced. "Bad. There's cracks in his visor, but I think the armor held up. Get a gunship in here _now._ He needs a doctor, _ASAP._ "

"This is N-11 requesting an immediate evac on RC-5280. Repeat, N-11 requesting evac on RC-5280." Ordo had two fingers pressed to the side of his helmet. "Sergeant, get your squad out to the RV for the next objective. The three of you will have to do the second half by yourselves. Get that Niemie _hut'uun_ \- traitor - back to HQ for me, copy?"

"Yes, _sir._ We'll take him in," Ajax said. "For Ka'rta. For the Republic."

Buckler took a moment more next to Ka'rta as the roar of LAAT/i engines came closer. "You'll be okay, _vod'ika_." It's all right, little brother. "I promise. We'll all be back to see you."

The gunship landed and two clones with red medical insignia on their shoulders hoisted Ka'rta onto a stretcher and hauled him into the gunship. Ordo signaled the pilot. The doors slid closed, and the transport headed for the RAS _Prosecutor,_ the Republic Commando temporary base of operations.

**_0730 hours, one day After the Battle of Geonosis, Republic Assault Ship Prosecutor, in orbit of Geonosis_ **

Ajax paced nervously in the corridor outside Buckler's hospital bed. He had been injured during the extraction of General Shaelon. Ca'ad sat next to the door on a bench.

"You're going to wear a hole in the deck plating, you know," the sniper remarked. "It isn't going to get either one of them out of the hospital any sooner."

"I know," Ajax replied, "but at least it helps me pass the time."

Ca'ad shrugged the comment off, resuming his blank stare into the distance.

A few moments later, a medical droid walked out of the room.

"RC-8233 has successfully healed," the droid reported. "You may see him now."

Ajax rushed into the room, eager to see his brother again. Ca'ad followed him closely.

Buckler was busy strapping his armor plates back on, unaware of how much time he'd spent in the bacta tank. It had been a full rotation.

"Hey, boss," the slicer said upon looking up to see his sergeant. "How's Ka'rta?"

Ajax's smile faded. "He's still in a coma, I'm afraid. The doctors say he isn't responding to stimulants. It could be days or even years before he wakes up."

A tear started down Buckler's cheek. "Why him? Why not one of us?"

"Why'd it happen in the first place?" Ajax retorted. "I made a mistake not ordering him to get out of there and follow us. That bomb should have gone off without any of us inside."

"He'll be okay," Ca'ad comforted the two. "Our doctors can fix him up."

"I sure hope so," said Buckler. "I'm not sure how we'd possibly get along without him."

"I know," replied Ajax. "I guess all we can do until he gets better is to wait for new orders."

"Or news from the doctor," Buckler supposed, strapping on his forearm plates and holding his helmet as if he was going to pull it on. "Whichever comes first. Want to head down to the mess in the meantime? A day in the bacta doesn't help the appetite any."

"Sure," Ajax replied. "Maybe we can play a few hands of Sabacc, too."

Buckler grinned. "Why not? Ca'ad?"

The sniper grinned as well. "I'm in."

The three spent three more days waiting before the news came from the doctors. Ka'rta was out of the coma, and was sleeping. Ajax led the other two into the room, and they sat at the foot of his bed, waiting for their comrade to wake. In less than an hour, he did.

Ka'rta's eyes opened suddenly and he sat bolt upright. He screwed up his face at the feeling of tense muscles and a crick in his neck. It felt like his back popped, too. Lying in a bed for four days seemed to make everything stiff and sore.

He looked around, seeing the familiar colors of his squad's armor in a circle around him. There wasn't a single helmet on any of Phi Squad's heads. Not even Ca'ad's. Ka'rta could see all his brothers' scars. Buckler's was especially obvious, a large gash across his forehead.

This was a strictly man-to-man moment, no buckets to get in the way. "Hey. Nice to see you up, Eight-oh." Buckler had broken the silence. "We were worried there a minute." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "You slipped into a coma there for a few days. The doctors said that they almost couldn't get you out of it. You took quite a shock when that bomb went off. I think even Ordo likes you after that stunt. Just... never try to play the hero. Ever again."

"I thought our job was to play the heroes," smiled Ka'rta weakly. "After all, we're the best, right?"

"What Buckler means to say is that you should never need to sacrifice yourself for us like that again," Ajax said. "And you don't need to do that. We'd all be fine if I had just ordered you to get out of there. Why did I let you do that?"

"It was what I needed to do, sarge. If there was a way to save that data, I would have found it. The mission always comes first, right?" Ka'rta paused a moment. "Speaking of the mission, how did the second half of our deployment go?"

Ajax started to tell the story. "Well, we took the bastard in. Do you want to hear the really long version of the story?"

"We've got plenty of time. Tell me everything."

"I'll start with the last thing you remember. The explosion. The three of us were outside. The bomb went off, and we hit the deck. Ordo called in an evac, and we started checking to see if you were alive under all that rubble…

_**Four days earlier, just after the bunker explosion** _

_Ajax was beyond worry. He was in panic._

" _Eighty, you still with us? Ka'rta?" he asked the pile of rubble._

" _It's_ always _the medic that goes down first," observed Ca'ad._

" _Vod, can you hear us?... Are you alive?" Buckler was also panicky. Ajax brought him into a private com channel._

" _Buck, I need you with me. We haven't got time to waste. That tone of panic I heard has to go away. At the least, your concern can't interfere with your performance. Udesii, vod'ika." Relax, little brother._

" _Yes, sir. I'll calm down."_

_Ordo went into emergency mode. "He must be underneath that rubble. Clear a path."_

_Ca'ad and Buckler started to lift away the rubble. Ajax soon joined them._

" _Got him over here." Buckler bent down to lift a block of permacrete off Ka'rta's legs. "Fierfek, he must be hurt. Bad. There's cracks in his visor, but I think his armor held up. He'll have major bruising, potential concussion. Ordo, get a gunship in here now. He needs a doctor, ASAP."_

" _This is N-11 requesting an immediate evac on RC five-two-eight-zero. Repeat, N-11 requesting evac on RC-5280."_

"... I had to get the squad in gear after that, so that we could get on the road and get that general in cuffs and back to HQ. Buckler was _really_ worried about you. I had to keep telling him that you were in the capable hands of the medics, and that you'd be fine."

"I'm definitely fine, and we're all here now," Ka'rta stated. "Gotta give credit to those Kaminoan armorsmiths. They know how to make a _fine_ piece of kit."

"You just wait till the part where we all get sniped. None of us would still be alive if not for this tough Katarn armor. Those snipers sure were surprised when they didn't kill us. Anyhow, we watched your gunship depart, then set out for the RV…

" _Fierfek, I can't believe that just happened. Ka'rta doesn't need to play the hero. He's got nothing to prove to us. Today is a good day for_ anybody _else to die. Just not him!" Buckler was quite emotional, nearly sure he was about to lose a pod brother._

" _He'll be okay. I promise. This armor is tougher than a Nikto is to crack. And our doctors know how to treat clones. He'll be alright," Ajax comforted. "Worry more about taking in the good Separatist general."_

" _Yes, sir. The mission comes first," Buckler affirmed, shutting off his feelings like years of practice had taught him to do._

" _Good man."_

_A blue-hued hologram flickered to life in Ajax's glove. "Phi Squad, are you there?" It was the lieutenant from before. "I heard about eight-zero. Do you need an evac, or can you take General Shaelon without him?"_

_Ajax responded without hesitating. "We were trained to be the toughest Mando'ade on the battlefield. We fight first, feel later." They were Mandalorians, like Jango Fett, their "father." The best of the best. Warriors that had seen more wars than history cared to record._

" _Excellent. Continue to your rendezvous point and Captain Ordo will meet you again. From there, you will set up an observation nest. Shaelon's transport is scheduled to pass that location at 1430 hours. You should see it coming from the west. Use minimal-damage weapons- EC and stun grenades only. Understood?"_

" _Sir, yes, sir!"_

_The hologram fizzled back out._

" _You heard the man. Phi Squad, move out! Now!"_

_The three-man squad started jogging. Ordo's voice came into their helmet comms._

" _Phi, what's your ETA?"_

_Ajax answered. "We're still about five klicks away from the RV. I estimate we can get there at…" he checked his chrono. It told him it was 1200 hours. "...1220 hours. That'll give us two more hours to set up for a traffic stop. Unless the target's early."_

" _Understood. See you in twenty minutes."_

" _You got that right, sir. Come on, squad,_ double time! _Move it!"_

_**15 minutes later, at the RV point** _

_The three commandos were out of breath. Carrying a thirty-kilo pack while running was no easy feat. However, they'd trained through worse. Crawling through nerf guts just to start survival training with little food and no sleep was far worse than having to run with all the extra weight of a survival pack. They were elite soldiers, and even more than that, Mandalorians. They could and would do anything to win._

_Ordo lay prone at the top of a nearby cliff face. "Congratulations, vode. You're tougher than I expected."_

_Ajax was breathing_ very _heavily. "Trained to be the best and toughest, sir," he panted._

" _More like_ bred. _Do you know how much the Kaminoans changed your genes? Too much. They took away our freedom. They made us super-obedient. They stripped us of our humanity."_

_Ca'ad laughed. "You should be a poet, Captain."_

" _Very funny," Ordo said sarcastically._

" _I'm serious. You should write poetry. All that stuff about humanity,_ very _poetic. We're_ clones _. Never once were we human. Not to them."_

" _You don't know just how little value they put in our lives. You didn't have a termination sentence when you were four." He paused, but only for a moment, to let the gravity of that remark sink in. "I want you up here in sniper positions. And get ready to take down an AAT."_

" _I brought just the tool," said Buckler excitedly. "This anti-repulsorlift field generator should interfere with anything up to MTT size. AATs and speeder bikes are useless against this."_

" _Excellent. I like a man who prepares. Let's get to work. Set that tool up next to the road. Make sure it gets camouflaged. Oh-eight, prep yourself and thirty-three for interdiction ops. We're going to take down that transport and bring in Shaelon."_

"...we all set up, then waited. The convoy was right on time."

"Hurrah for good intel, right?" Ka'rta seemed excited for the next part of the story.

"Keep your helmeton, ner vod. I'm getting to the real exciting part. The convoy arrived right on schedule, and we had more than enough time to prepare…

" _I got three contacts, mark three two seven." Ca'ad_ really _loved his sniper scope. "Coming your way at…" he did some calculations. "...eighty kph. Buckler, your traffic stop prepped?"_

" _Just waiting for the signal from the point," was Buckler's response. "Boss?"_

" _Wait…" was Ajax's cool reply._

" _Wait…"_

" _Ten…"_

" _Nine…"_

" _Eight…"_

" _Seven…" Buckler prepped his finger over the button._

" _Six…"_

" _Five…" Ca'ad joined Ajax in the countdown and trained his rifle on the AAT's forward hatch._

" _Four…" Ordo prepared an EC grenade in his fist._

" _Three…" Buckler brought his finger closer to the button._

" _Two…" Ajax rolled over in his cover in order to see the convoy better._

" _One…" they all began executing their respective responses._

" _Mark!" all four yelled in unison. Buckler's little surprise came first, then Ordo threw his grenade. That took out the droids on speeder bikes. After the hatch opened, Ca'ad shot at the droid that came out._

" _Boom! Headshot! I_ love _this job!"_

_Next was Ajax and Buckler together. They stormed the tank, Deeces trained on the rear hatch. It opened, and they shot. Ajax signaled for Buckler to take the main turret. He yelled down to Ajax. "Nothing, sir! Not a trace of any wets. Shaelon was never here."_

" _What? Stang, that's not supposed to happen. Intel got the mode of transport wrong."_

_Ordo interjected. "The General must be in a shuttle bound for Raxus. Or he's not leaving."_

"... so by then we knew that we had very little chance of arresting General Shaelon."

"So we had bad intel. Happened all the time in training. But I thought you said we took him in," Ka'rta observed.

"We did. And only because Ca'ad can hit a Sheathipede engine from two klicks…

_An arrow flickered in the upper left corner of Ca'ad's HUD._

" _Sarge, I've got something. Mark two five four."_

" _Copy that, six. Looks like a Sheathipede. Might be our general. Take it out of the sky."_

" _With extreme pleasure, sir."_

_His HUD told him when the target was at a two thousand meter range. He took the shot._

" _That's a hit, boss."_

" _Excellent. Let's go grab the spoils of our work."_

_The three-man squad and their ARC captain headed toward the spiral of smoke._

" _I really wish Ka'rta could have seen that," said Buckler in awe. "That was awesome, six!"_

" _Cut the chatter, boys. Target's in view." That was Ordo talking. "Weapons ready. They'll have prepared a defense, especially if a general is on that shuttle."_

_Ordo was right. They had prepared a defense._

" _Fierfek. I didn't think that many droids could fit in one of those tiny shuttles," noted Buckler._

" _You charged your ammo cells, right?" Ajax wondered._

" _Always do, sarge."_

" _Then we've got nothing to worry about."_

" _And I brought flash-bangs and high-strength binders."_

" _Good man."_

_The team checked the power levels on their blasters, reloading if necessary.._

" _On my mark. Three… two… one… mark!"_

_All four sprang out from their cover positions and opened fire._

" _Have some of this, you rusted scrap of metal!"_

" _Kraffing tinnies!"_

_Buckler threw a grenade. The explosion knocked back the front line of droids. Just behind them, an advanced dwarf spider droid turned to fire._

" _Set up anti-armor, over there!"_

_Buckler responded by moving to the indicated cover position and putting on his grenade launcher attachment. "Enemies go 'boom,' sir?"_

_He fired. The droid turned towards him. He took another shot. Ajax threw a grenade, then made a hand signal for Ca'ad to take cover to his left. The sniper moved and prepped his AA attachment. He fired. Again, the droid's weak spot, the eye, turned to face its assailant. Its eye sustained a direct hit._

" _I hope they never program these things to be any more intelligent."_

_Ajax gave the command to focus fire and pulled out his anti-armor, too. The spider droid fired four missiles, one at each clone._

" _Everybody, get down!" Ordo yelled. The squad obeyed._

" _Hey, clanky, over here!" taunted Ca'ad. The grey-armored droid turned. Ca'ad's HUD told him that one more shot to the eye would destroy the droid. He took it._

" _Bogey down, captain. We did it!"_

" _Job's not over yet, kid."_

" _Secure that shuttle, Phi!" Ajax commanded._

_The squad moved to cover the door. Ca'ad made a hand gesture. Buckler placed a charge on the rear hatch of the shuttle. It blew, and Ajax tossed in a flash-bang. The squad rushed the door, and every droid form they could see was promptly downed. It was, in Ajax's words, a textbook op. The Nemoidian general lay stunned in the middle of the floor. Buckler took his binders out of his belt, and shoved them on Shaelon's wrists._

"... so that's how we took the man in."

"That can't be the end. Didn't you say earlier that you got sniped?" interrupted Ka'rta.

"I did," Ajax restarted. "And I never said that I was at the end of the story, _did I?_ "

"No, sarge. Well, not directly."

"Well, then, I'll continue?"

Ka'rta nodded an affirmative.

"We got the good General in binders, and we had Ordo call for a gunship. Everybody thought that would be the end of the mission…

" _Well, we made a clean run of that one, didn't we?" Buckler said, starting the conversation with a little bravado._

" _We've got a larty on the way, and I keep expecting Bralor to yell 'endex,'" observed Ajax. This was their first real mission. Everything before was in training, where their beloved training sergeant would say when the "end of the exercise," or "endex," came._

" _I don't think it's endex yet, vode. Look at that reflection," noted Ca'ad. "That looks like a pair of electrobinoculars to me. Could be a spotter."_

" _And where there's a spotter, there's a sniper," observed Buckler._

" _Cover positions, everyone!_ Get down! _Sniper!" Ordo raised his left gauntlet towards his helmet. "This is Ordo, with Phi Squad, reporting sniper attack at coordinates oh-seven mark three-eight. Repeat, sniper at oh-seven point three-eight."_

_A voice issued from his comlink. "N-11, do you have any more casualties?"_

" _Negative, General. We have the objective in our custody and are waiting for a pickup."_

" _Can you hold out until that gunship arrives in twenty minutes?"_

" _Unless that sniper can find a position where he's got a visual on us, yes."_

" _Prep for anti-sniper ops. Whatever you do, do_ not _let that sniper get his crosshairs on your prisoner. Understood?"_

" _Yes, sir." Ordo's comlink was deactivated. "You heard him. Get the prisoner to a secure location."_

" _On it, sir," said Ca'ad, trying to wrangle the Nemoidian to the floor. He succeeded in pinning the Separatist general, and used his binders to lock the prisoner to a low pipe. "He shouldn't be getting up until we let him."_

_Ajax saw a major flaw in their protection of the prisoner. "Establish a perimeter around that prisoner. HQ really wants him back."_

_The team created a barrier between the general and any enemy forces that were attempting to make sure he never talked. Another shot from the sniper nest. This one hit Buckler square in the chest. "That hurt a bit. Armor integrity's down to about half. Six, can you get a fix on that sniper droid?"_

_Ca'ad switched to his sniper rifle attachment. "I think so. Just give me a minute… There. Got him." Ca'ad took his shot. The droid rolled over before Ca'ad's shot hit it. "Stang. It moved. Damn tinnies." He went for another shot, making sure the sniper droid wouldn't be focused on him. "Buck, I need you to make a distraction so I'm not in his crosshairs."_

_Buckler raised his sniper rifle. He took a shot, missing. "You're a better sniper than me, ner vod. And that droid is ready to finish me."_

" _Hang in there. Almost got my shot." Ca'ad's targeting reticule flashed red. He took the shot._

_Buckler yelled out._

" _What was that about? Buck?"_

" _That droid got one last shot off. It hit Buckler right in the chest. He's incapped. See anything else on that ridge?" Ajax wondered._

" _Ridge is clean, boss."_

_Ajax walked over to Buckler's form on the ground. He knelt next to his brother and pulled out his bacta spray. "Ner vod, you're going to be okay."_

_Buckler simply moaned in response. There must have been another droid up there. It took a shot, taking Ajax down._

"... That's where my part of the story stops. Ca'ad can tell you what happened next. And the way he tells it is better than I ever could."

"Really? Do tell, Ca'ad," Ka'rta prompted.

Ca'ad stepped in front of Ajax. "Right. Ajax went down, and I had no idea what was supposed to happen now. Suffice it to say it's a _really_ good thing Command assigned Ordo to us for this...

_Ca'ad was quite frantic by then. "Leader down! Repeat, leader is down!"_

" _Take cover, ner vod. And get the prisoner out of sight."_

 _Shaelon snorted. "Those snipers will kill us_ all _in the glory of the Separatist Alliance!"_

" _Would you find a way to shut him up, seventy-six?"_

" _It would be my pleasure, sir." Ca'ad shuffled some items around and pulled a handkerchief from his survival pack. He tied it around the Separatist general's mouth as a gag. The Neimoidian offered no resistance._

_Meanwhile, Ordo was beginning medical treatment on the two wounded commandos, with a single medkit and its bacta spray. Luckily, the most serious injuries either man had sustained were a concussion and a broken rib. Ordo knew that from his glove's tally scanner and the advanced biotechnology of Katarn armor. "Lie still," he instructed a struggling Ajax, who had the concussion. "You'll be all right. Just lie still and I'll give you an analgesic for the pain." Ordo put two fingers into the collar of Ajax's bodysuit and pulled it down so he could inject the medicine intravenously. Ajax stopped struggling and laid there, obviously soothed and content._

_Ordo moved to Buckler. He started to prepare for transport, grabbing two loose sections of pipe and the wool blanket from the commando's survival pack. He took the blanket and folded it in thirds. Then he put the sections of pipe at each of the two folds, proceeding to roll Buckler onto the makeshift stretcher._

" _Phi Squad, what's your status? I'm above the landing zone now," said a gunship pilot. His occupation was obvious from the engine noise in the background and his flash-learned CT accent._

" _We can't hear your engine noise," observed Ordo, a bit concerned._

" _That's odd. I'm right above you. I'm even detecting the crashed Sep shuttle. Let me come a bit closer to the ground."_

" _Right. We should hear you if you get closer. See if you can land."_

" _Copy that, sir!"_

_The gunship began its descent. But something was wrong. None of the squad saw or heard anything. The pilot wasn't there. He was really flying above a plateau many kilometers away, where the ground was a hundred meters higher than at the crashed shuttle. Descent was not a good idea at that time._

" _That's a negative on engine noise, pilot. Your instruments okay?"_

_The only response Ordo got was the sound of an explosion._

" _Phi, your transport should be arriving promptly," came the non-clone voice of an officer in the RAS_ Prosecutor.

" _We made contact with the pilot," Ordo explained. "But there's no gunship. I heard an explosion through the com. Someone must have tampered with his instruments. We're pinned down here with two casualties. Can you get us a transport or do we slot the prisoner?"_

" _Negative,_ negativeon killing the prisoner. _Do the best you can. We'll work out a way to get help down to you. Even if it means bringing in paratroopers."_

" _Understood, sir. We'll stay here." There was a faint crackle in Ca'ad's helmet audio as HQ terminated the link. Ordo shifted into command mode. "Make sure to keep yourself alive. I can't do this alone." He moved towards Ajax's form. From the commando's belt, he took a defibrillator-looking device, field bacta, and held it up to Ajax's chest. It beeped several times, and Ajax breathed a deep breath before rising, albeit slowly._

" _The sniper-what can we do? Is it still up there?" wondered Ajax._

" _It's still there. And we'll be waiting awhile for a pickup. The first gunship they sent crashed. Probably instrument failure. Or sabotage."_

" _And Buckler? Is he okay?"_

_Ca'ad responded. "Fractured rib. He could probably fight, but let's not risk any internal injuries we don't need to."_

" _Right. Where can we get a good shot on that sniper?"_

" _If you lie prone and make an easy target for him…_

Ajax interrupted Ca'ad. "It did _not_ happen like that. You never gave me orders, and I never stood there looking like something to shoot at."

"Fine. _You_ tell it."

With pleasure, Ajax resumed his side of events. "We were discussing the best way to take out that sniper droid, and finally settled on a plan…

" _I'll go out in front, and you set up in cover here." Ajax pointed to a position. He switched to his sniper attachment, changing weapon types as swiftly and easily as he changed clips. "If I can't hit that droid, kill it for me."_

" _Got it, sir," confirmed Ca'ad._

_Ajax took a deep breath, centering himself to run for it. He turned out into the open and raised his rifle, still moving towards cover. He found a crate for cover and aimed. He quickly found the droid in his scope, and muttered under his breath. "Hello, you're dead." He took the shot…_

"...and I made the kill."

"Uh-uh. _I_ made that kill, Sarge, and you know that full well," retorted Ca'ad.

"Artistic license. Hey, what goes around comes around. You know karma's a nasty _chakaar_ , don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but eighty wants the _accurate_ version of events."

Ka'rta looked amused. "If you boys don't behave, I can have the doctors drag you both out of here. So I can rest up."

"Okay, okay. I'll finish up quick," resumed Ajax. " _Ca'ad_ made his shot. Right after that, we heard the distinct sound that meant the gunship crash was an isolated incident…

" _Is that a larty I hear?" asked Ajax._

" _I think so," replied Ca'ad._

_Ordo tapped a button on his gauntlet. "N-11 to unidentified LAAT. Please tell me you're here to pick us up."_

_The pilot laughed. "I heard about what happened to the last poor soul who tried to come down for you. HQ sent a team to investigate the malfunction." He paused, for just a moment. "Anyway, we're here now. You say you had wounded?"_

" _Got one man inside the shuttle with a fractured rib, and a walking concussed man."_

" _We've got room."_

_The gunship landed. A pair of CTs with battle-scarred armor and Aurebesh saying "MP" on their shoulder plates walked out to retrieve the prisoner. Shaelon spat at Ordo's feet as he walked by. Ajax and Ca'ad proceeded to the gunship, the two holding Buckler on his makeshift stretcher. They set the stretcher on the floor of the gunship, and the doors slid shut._

"... the gunship took off, and we all made it back here to the Prosecutor. Then we waited for Buck to come out of the bacta tank, and then for you to wake up."

"Another successful mission. Glad they trained us to be the best despite _anything._ "

"Ka'rta, you could say that again. But don't. I already have a concussion to recover from. Don't give me a headache, too."

Ka'rta laughed. "And I got blown up. See you later, then. After we've all rested up a bit."

"See you in the morning, _ner vod_."


	4. Part Two: Death Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the CLONE WARS rage on, Phi Squad finds themselves taking increasingly complex and dangerous missions. Today, we find them taking on the Mandalorian terrorist organization Death Watch...

_"Ajax_ _'_ _s kinda frigid sometimes, but that's to be expected when you've been through what_ _we’ve_ _been through. I have to admit, though, there_ ' _s nobody else I_ _'_ _ve met who could make a better sergeant. And no other squad I_ _'_ _d rather be with."_

From Buckler's third post-mission debriefing

###  0700 hours, 346 days ABG, Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

### 

“ _Ner vod_.” The voice was Buckler's. “Ka'rta, they're sending us back out. Into the field.”

Ka'rta rolled over in his bunk. “Again? Why do they need us so often? We _just_ got back from our last deployment at Dantooine.”

“I hear General Kenobi made a bit of a mess on Mandalore. With the Death Watch.”

“Didn't he have something with that New Mandalorian leader Satine?”

“Rumors,” dismissed Ajax. “Just rumors about a past love they probably never had. Jedi can't have attachments.”

“General Jusik seems to be attached to his commando teams.”

Buckler joined Ka'rta. “And Tur-Mukan is always wanting to know about Omega.”

Ca'ad laughed. “Yeah, she sure is.”

The door to the squad's quarters slid open. In walked Bardan Jusik. “Good morning.” Phi Squad snapped to attention. “At ease. You know you don't have to worship me. I'm just your leader.”

“Protocol, sir,” reminded Ajax. “We were programmed to serve our Jedi generals with unfailing loyalty.”

“ _Programmed._ Don't remind me. You boys are no better than slaves.”

“We do our job.”

“But some pay or whatever else the Republic could spare might be nice. A house, a wife, some nice kids, …”

Ka'rta was interrupted by Ca'ad. “They're never going to give us anything.”

“I can dream, can't I?”

Jusik interrupted the conversation. “I could talk about how you troopers are being unfairly used all day. But I can't. Zey wants me to give you a mission.”

“We're going after Pre Visla, aren't we?”

“In short, yes. Your task is to take out as much of the Death Watch as you can. I know you think of yourselves as Mandalorian, but you _have_ to take out enemies of the Republic. And we want the head of Pre Visla. Especially after what happened to Kenobi. You heard about that, I'm sure.”

“News travels fast in an army of one man,” confirmed Ka'rta. “But at least he's the right man for the job.”

Jusik smiled. “You're right. Jango Fett _was_ the right man for this job. Unfortunate he was working for the Separatists.”

“Yeah. But I see how Windu was justified in taking the guy's head off. Poor Boba, though. No _buir_ to look after him, no father to teach him the ways of the _Mando_ _'_ _ade._ ”

“That _is_ a shame, true. But we're here to discuss your next mission. We want Pre Visla dead, and take out as many Death Watch operatives as you can while you're at it. Don't let the _Mando_ _beskar_ _'_ _gam_ fool you. Death Watch is the enemy here.”

“Don't worry, General. Every good _Mando_ _'_ _ad_ is raised with an intense hatred of Death Watch. When we were born… er, _hatched,_ the Death Watch was sitting back licking their wounds, or so Sergeant Bralor told us,” informed Ca'ad.

“Got it. You boys already see Death Watch as the enemy. So this mission will be a piece of cake for you.”

“Not exactly, sir,” explained Ajax. “We're just four people. Death Watch have the same skills as us, but _they_ number in the hundreds. Those are suicide odds, even for _us._ ”

“You'll have backup as you need it. At the very least, we want you to put a dent in Death Watch leadership. Make sure you take down Visla, and all of his lieutenants you can get your sights on. You'll get more information en route.”

“Great. I _love_ these missions. Lots of target practice,” said Ca'ad menacingly.

“Except for the part where we all get shot, yeah. These missions are kinda fun,” responded Ka'rta, sarcastically.

### 

###  1500 hours, Nu-class Shuttle in deep space near Mandalore

“You boys ready for this? I hear you'll be having lots of fun with the Death Watch down there,” the pilot conjectured.

“You're never ready for a mission you're pretty sure will be your last,” replied Ajax.

“I _like_ this _kandosii beskar'gam._ Really helps me get in the spirit of things,” observed Ka'rta, looking at his purple helmet with flame imagery on the front. “And I hear it makes us look more menacing.”

“People sure don't like having a _Mando'ad_ pointing a blaster at them. Just remember, this is Death Watch we're dealing with. That flame livery won't make you any less suspicious to them,” warned Ca'ad, who was putting on his Death Watch issue grey-colored gauntlets. “They don't like it when their soldiers paint their armor. And they _really_ won't like it when we walk in there with blasters drawn.”

Buckler took a jetpack from the floor and hoisted it onto Ka'rta's back. “At least they won't know right away that we're coming to kill them. This _beskar'gam_ is genuine. And this Death Watch color scheme Ca’ad and I have should help us blend in.”

“Didn't any of you read the files on Death Watch?” asked Ca'ad. “They are ferocious warriors who will stop at nothing to destroy the New Mandalorians and all they stand for. When we go in there, guns blazing, they'll get a little ticked off when they find out the Republic supports the regime they hate. Of course, if they hadn't sided with the Separatists to achieve their goals, we wouldn't be here….” He stopped because Ajax showed him a gesture to “cut it out.”

Ajax spoke, his red-and grey armor that was borrowed from RC-8015 already speaking volumes. “Look, men, we want to be as covert during insertion as possible. No taking off your buckets, and no shooting. We'll get to the stakeout point on Concordia, and stay there for the night. We'll sleep in watches. Ca'ad and I will take the first watch, followed by Ka'rta and Buckler at midnight. Any questions?”

“One, boss. Can we use jetpacks during the insertion?” wondered Buckler.

“No. No using the jetpacks unless _absolutely necessary._ They're too loud.”

“Fine. But I can use my KiSteer rifle, can't I?”

“Sure, when we get to the shooting part. Not before. And remember, it belongs to the GAR. Not you,” the sergeant teased, punching the other on the shoulder.

“Coming up on Concordia now, boys. Get ready to make your exit.” The pilot was somewhat amused by all their talk down in the hold.

“Copy that,” replied Ajax. “You heard the man, boys. Buckets on and make sure you have a jetpack. It's part of the armor.”

Phi Squad put their helmets on and secured their jetpacks. They lined up at the door and made ready to exit the craft. In the cabin, the lights went from red to green as the shuttle hit the ground. The door swung in a downward arc, giving the commandos access to the outdoors. They walked to their predesignated observation point, where they set up camp. Two tents, one overlooking the Death Watch headquarters. It looked like _they_ were preparing to evacuate Concordia.

### 

###  0000 hours, 347 days ABG, Phi Squad encampment

“Buck?” It was Ka'rta. “We're on watch now.”

“Thanks, eighty.”

“Don't mention it. I made sure to pack an extra pair of electrobinoculars for you,” grinned Ka'rta. He hadn't even thought to bring a pair for himself.

“Real funny, Ka'rta. I have my own. Modified to be super-powerful.” Buckler held up his modified pair of electrobinocs.

Ka'rta flicked down the rangefinder on his helmet. “Good. We'll need all the specialized kit we can get. Got any other surprises we should know about?”

“Well, I brought plenty of flash-bangs, and I smuggled a couple of prototype field rations that actually taste good…”

Ajax cut him off. “Switch off your comms. Don't want the locals picking up our transmissions if it can be helped. And let's switch tents. This one has a better vantage point.”

“Got it, sir.” Buckler made a swift eye motion, turning off his helmet's comlink systems. Ka'rta did the same.

They proceeded to the other tent, where Ajax and Ca'ad were lying prone. The two got up, and were quickly replaced by the second watch. Buckler brought his electrobinoculars up to his visor. Ka'rta looked through his rangefinder. It had just enough range for recce.

The cliff Phi Squad was camped on top of was about fifty meters tall. Below could be seen the defunct _beskar_ mining facility that served as Death Watch headquarters. It consisted of several buildings that looked like half-buried fifty gallon drums and several shriek-hawk looking Mandalorian _Kom'rk_ -class fighter/transports. It looked like Death Watch was preparing to evacuate their base. There were warriors scrambling every which way, some carrying what looked like heavy crates to their transports.

“Hey, Ka'rta, there's Visla. Quadrant delta, no bucket,” whispered Buckler.

“Yeah, I see him. Did Ajax say we were forbidden to shoot him? I've got a clear shot, and it wouldn't take me very long to grab my KiSteer and take him down.”

Buckler sighed, disappointed. “As much as I’d like to, I think that'd blow the entire op. We should wait and see what Ajax says in the morning. Besides, Ca'ad seemed like he _really_ wanted the kill. Why do _you_ want to snipe him so bad?”

“Well, we might not get another chance at him. See how angry he looks? And look, he's headed toward that refitted _Kom'rk._ ”

***

Visla _was_ angry. His conversation with Count Dooku hadn't gone well. Death Watch wasn't going to retake Mandalore, and that made him _furious._ Duchess Satine wasn't supposed to be able to interfere with their plans. Yet here she was all the same, sending yet another plan to the dump. One of his warriors approached him.

“Sir, all platoons report ready for evacuation,” he said.

“Good,” returned Visla. “Send my officers to the mess hall. We'll have one last meal here.”

The soldier turned, and vanished. Visla disappeared into one of the buildings. Several other armored figures, including at least one female, followed.

***

Buckler turned to Ka'rta. “Did you catch any of that conversation? You were always the best lip-reader in the squad.”

“Not all, but enough. Visla is having one last meal with his senior staff here. I think they'll be evacuating as soon as that's done. We should wake the others.”

“It's only been an hour. I don't think that's such a good idea. You know how Ajax is when he can't sleep… But we may not get another chance to hit all the Death Watch leadership. They're leaving soon, and we can't cripple them if they're all gone.”

“We can follow them to their next hideout,” suggested Ka'rta.

“In _what?_ ” snorted Buckler. “Ajax told us to keep the comms off, and our only transport is a long ways away.”

“I was thinking a little... _liberation._ It's been a long time since our last flight in the sims. And they'd notice if they were being followed by a Republic transport.” Ka'rta was itching to fly something. He had always loved the thrill of flight, the freedom of taking a ship anywhere you wanted. But he was an RC from birth. Only meant to be a pilot in emergencies.

“And a _Mando_ transport wouldn't attract as much attention?”

“They wouldn't attack a _Mando_ transport _on sight._ ”

“Stealing a starship is never a good idea,” said a non-clone, female voice behind the clones.

Buckler and Ka'rta immediately flipped over and aimed their sidearms.

“ _Check!_ ” ordered the new, yet very familiar voice.

“Sergeant Bralor!” Ka'rta said, obviously surprised. She had taken off her helmet for easier recognition.

“Heard you were in the neighborhood.” By that, of course, she meant Mandalore. She paused a moment, assessing their errors. Of course, she could _always_ find something to pick on. But this time it wasn't the finer points of lying prone. “A guard watch should be more aware of what's behind them. I was standing here for about two minutes.”

Ka'rta saw where she was going with this. “Enough time for you to have killed one of our squadmates.”

Bralor nodded gravely. “You wouldn't have known I was here until the sound of a blaster. By the time you got over to help, both of them could've died. _One_ of you can do recon, the other should stand watch at the door.”

“Got it, sergeant. Won't make that mistake again,” promised Buckler. “By the way, how'd you find out we were here? That would mean a breach of GAR security.”

“Are you calling Kal Skirata a security breach?”

“No, ma'am. As long as he used the proper precautions to contact you.”

“Of course he did.” She looked at him admonishingly, with a mock-hurt expression. She was close to the old sergeant, it seemed. “Now, weren't you supposed to be doing reconnaissance on that location?”

“Right.” Buckler flipped back over.

“I'll keep watch on the door, Ka'rta. You go ahead and keep watching your target.” Bralor was _really_ a kind, affectionate mother when she felt a need to be. A real Mandalorian _buir_ to those clones. Maybe she had gotten _too_ close to old Kal.

“Thank you, ma'am.” Ka'rta flipped back over. He saw that many more of the Death Watch soldiers had boarded their _Kom'rk_ -class transports, ready to evacuate at a moment's notice. “We should wake the others,” he said, a bit uneasy about the fact that none of the people below, their targets, would be there much longer.

“I think we can still follow them after an hour or two. Their hyperspace wake will still be fresh,” Buckler told Ka'rta.

“You boys can use my ship,” said Bralor. “So you don't need to steal one.”

Ka'rta grinned broadly. “Can I pilot? I'm itching to fly something. And Zey doesn't like it when I fly. 'Not enough training,' apparently.”

Bralor kicked him in the leg, lightly. “No. it's _my_ ship. You'd wreck it. I remember how terrible your flight simulator scores were,” she teased. He was the best pilot in the entire SO brigade.

Ka'rta could tell she was teasing. “Alright, then. If I can't pilot, can I be copilot?”

“Yes. I'll even let you pilot while we're in hyperspace, but at sublight _I_ drive.”

“All right.” Ka'rta looked more intently at the operation below him. “Hey, looks like they're getting ready to take off. Can we get a tracker on that ship?”

“I don't think so,” responded Buckler. “Too risky. Maybe with a full-sized fleet we could do that, but _not_ one ship against two.”

“Buckler's right.” This was another new voice, but a familiar one. Ajax. “We can't track them through hyperspace. We _can_ follow their space-time distortion wake, though.”

“Ajax!” Buckler turned around and seemed stunned, even under his helmet. “Weren't you asleep, sir?” he asked.

“I heard Sergeant Bralor come in. Drew my sidearm just in case she wasn't friendly and wanted to kill a poor, innocent sleeping man.”

“Smart man,” praised Bralor. “But now you've left Ca'ad vulnerable.”

“He's awake,” Ajax stated. “Unless he fell back asleep.”

Ca'ad's disembodied voice carried over to the other tent. “I can hear you, y'know.”

“Oh, good. That means we can all plan this together.”

“All right. I'll get up,” Ca'ad grumbled. The five people crowded into the small tent.

Ajax started the conversation. “Buck, you brought your electrobinoculars that can see into orbit, right?”

“Sure did, boss. Got 'em right here,” Buckler said, holding up his modified piece of kit.

“Good man. Sarge, you've got the ship?”

Bralor responded. “Yep. Hidden in the forest about two klicks from here.”

“Excellent. Ka'rta,” the leader began while turning to the only one of them still lying prone, “you get the job of calculating their trajectory and setting the course.”

“Fine by me,” said Ka'rta's figure. “Let's hit them. Hard.”

“That's the spirit!”

Ka'rta looked at something more closely in his rangefinder. It looked like Death Watch was ready to take off. He spoke. “I think they're about ready to leave down there…. Buck? Let's use that kit of yours.”

Buckler pressed his modified electrobinoculars to his visor. “I don't see anyone moving around,” he confirmed.

“Reading a power up in the lead _Kom'rk_.”

“Ahh. Copy that. It's left the ground.”

“Buck, they're out of my range.”

“Okay. I can still see them. Should be able to until they jump.” Buckler saw the distant ship turn to its desired heading and it remained facing that way for several seconds. Just enough time for Buckler to get its heading. “Making the jump at… two three seven mark five.”

Ka'rta recorded the numbers in his HUD. Then he performed several calculations, laying out the course on a star chart. “Looks like they're headed for a small planet in the Outer Rim. Carlac, I think.”

“Could be their next HQ. Let's recheck their heading with data on their hyperspace wake,” directed Ajax.

“Let's go. I'm anxious to get at those lousy _chakaare,_ ” interjected Bralor. There was a fierceness to her tone Phi Squad wasn't used to hearing.

### 

###  0500 hours, in orbit of Concordia, Rav Bralor's G9 Rigger

“Well, we got off the ground. That's lucky.” Ca'ad was promptly slapped by Bralor.

“You will _not_ make fun of my ship.”

“Sorry, sarge,” Ca'ad said, grinning. “General Skywalker has one of these freighters, but _his_ is a total piece of junk. I think he calls it the _Twi’lek_ or the _Midnight_ or something.”

“I bet you don't insult his ship to his face.”

“Well, no.”

“Then don't insult mine.”

“Oh, come _on,_ sarge. Can't you take a little joke?”

“Not from _you,_ six,” the hardened Mando woman teased.

“All right, all right, break it up,” joked Ajax affectionately. “This ship is _kandosii,_ sarge. Even though it doesn't exude a sense of _Mando_ tradition.”

Ka'rta looked over. The flames on his helmet made him look genuinely menacing. “At least we _have_ a ship. Even Skywalker’s _Twilight_ would be welcome.”

“Don't be so sure of that,” warned Ca'ad. “I've actually _flown_ in that bucket of bolts. I think General Skywalker holds it together with adhesive and a little help from the Force. I don't see _how_ that ship can fly.”

The cabin was silent for a few moments. Ka'rta broke the silence with a report. “I've confirmed Death Watch's last heading. They went to Carlac.”

“Let's make the jump there, too. Calculating the heading now,” said Bralor.

“Ready to engage lightspeed, sarge.”

“ _Oya!_ ” Let's hunt! Bralor was positively itching to get Death Watch brass. She _looked_ furious. It was a good thing the commandos couldn't see her angry expression through her red helmet trimmed with black and yellow.

Ka'rta pulled a lever, and the stars lengthened, then turned to streaks of white and blue. Everyone laid back into their chairs, exhaling in a relieved unison. Ajax went into the cabin to start a game of Dejarik holochess. It was a _long_ way to Carlac.

Bralor took her hands off the console, letting Ka'rta fly, as she'd promised. “You look like you belong in that _beskar'gam, ad'ika._ ” _If the armor fits, wear it._

“Thanks, sarge. Always wanted to see how it felt in battle.”

“It's a lot less restrictive than that Katarn kit you lot usually wear.”

“Yeah, but it's not as protective. I couldn't pull a stunt like I did at Geonosis in this.”

“True. On the other hand, this stuff can stand up against even a lightsaber.”

Ka'rta smiled. “Jedi are our officers. We won't be going up against them _anytime_ soon.”

“Also true.” Bralor took off her helmet, signaling Ka'rta to do the same. He did. She ruffled his hair, as she always did to express her pride in her commandos. “What you did back on Geonosis was either very brave, incredibly stupid, or both.”

“I did what I thought had the highest chance of saving lives.”

“Exactly what I trained you to do.”

Ka'rta smiled and didn't respond. He continued to monitor the ship's instruments, focusing on flying. Bralor studied him for a few moments before heading into the cabin to spectate on the Dejarik game.

The three helmeted commandos in the cabin were extremely focused on the game. Ca'ad suddenly made a move, with a lot of emphasis.

“Weasel your way out of _that,_ Buck,” he gloated.

“Hey! No fair! We're not playing Wookiee rules here,” Buckler exclaimed, folding his arms.

Ca'ad sank back into his chair, grinning triumphantly under the sinister T-visor of his helmet. “It's a _perfectly_ legal move. I win.”

“Rematch?” inquired Ajax.

“Sure,” replied Buckler. “As long as seventy-six gets handicapped.”

At this, Ca'ad scoffed loudly. “I doubt you'd win either way.”

Buckler balled his hands into fists. He held one up. “You want some of this?”

Bralor could see this was a problem. “ _Udesii,_ boys.” Relax. “Calm down and _save it for the enemy._ ”

“Fine,” the two men replied in perfect synchronization.

Bralor hoped that it was just frayed nerves and overcompetition.

Ajax was afraid that the two were having problems, bringing them into a private comm channel. “Problem, _vode?_ ”

“Yes,” said Buckler.

“No,” said Ca'ad over him.

“You two are fighting about more than a game of holochess. What is it?”

Silence.

“Come on, out with it! I'm your CO, for the _mand'alor's_ sake. If you two are having a problem, I _need_ to know. You can leave Bralor out of this, but _not me._ ”

Buckler spoke up. “Lately, sir, Ca'ad's been taking bacta injections. He told me it was for his for his arm, after what happened to it on Christophsis. I looked. His arm's fine. _Ori'haat._ ” No bull.

“Ca'ad, is it true that you're taking bacta injections?”

“Yeah. It's true.” Ca'ad looked positively furious. “You and Ka'rta are so blind. You can't see what's in front of you. You especially, _mir'osik._ ”

“So I've got dung for brains now, is that it?” It sounded as though Ajax had finally lost his eternal cool, then his voice and posture calmed, the sergeant slouching back into his chair. “I'm concerned for you. But if your actions are affecting this squad's performance, I'll _have_ to kick you out of it.”

For a moment, there was an anger-filled silence. Buckler kicked the air in front of him, a futile gesture.

“I can tell you three are having a conversation under those buckets. What's going on?” Bralor was concerned, even more so than Ajax.

“ _Cui ogir'olar._ ” So Ca'ad thought it was irrelevant. Bralor made a note of that. She concluded he was the source of the tension.

“I'll leave you three alone, then.” She made a point of making eye contact with Ca'ad's visor. He shifted in his seat. That meant he'd noticed.

She decided to check in with Ka'rta at the helm, then rest up. She'd tell him to do the same later.

The emotionally charged conversation continued behind sealed helmets.

“So, _is_ this an addiction?” confronted Ajax.

“Respectfully, eight, no.” Ca'ad seemed quite sure about this. “The fact that I hid my actions makes it suspicious, but I can stop anytime.”

“I doubt that, Aje. I've told him this has to stop, and I can tell he's still taking the bacta.” Buckler was understandably concerned about his pod brother.

“Is that why he's been so moody lately?” Not one of the three heard Ka'rta join their comlink. But his voice was quite distinctive. The other three knew it was him. “I can't _believe_ you'd do something so _stupid,_ Ca'ad.”

“Watch your tone, _vod._ ” Ca'ad was _definitely_ angry. “I don't need _you_ turning on me, too.”

“Stow it.” Ajax had apparently slipped back into the role of sergeant. “Ca'ad, you should report to your quarters and not show your face until you're calmer.” He waited until Ca'ad got up. “Buck, let's talk.”

Ca'ad grumbled under his breath as he left for his quarters. Ajax and Buckler heard both of the others leave the squad comm channel. Just to make sure, Ajax took off his helmet. Buckler did the same, revealing his baldness and the large scar across his forehead. Ajax smiled to himself as he thought about how Buckler had gotten that scar. He'd be more careful about wearing his helmet around an explosion next time.

“So… Dejarik?” Ajax thought a game would help the other cool down a bit and forget what had happened.

“Sure.”

The colorful game pieces flared to life on the circular grid in front of the two commandos. Buckler appeared preoccupied. He wasn't playing as well as he normally did.

“What's the matter? You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother. Your friend,” Ajax tried to comfort Buckler into talking.

Buckler sank back into his chair. “It's the whole thing with Ca'ad. I told him to come forward, and he didn't.”

“You can't make him do anything. He's a different person. Different brain.”

“But the same blood. How could he do this to himself? It just doesn't seem right. These things happen to _other_ clones, not _your_ _own pod brother._ ”

“Even those 'other clones' have pod brothers, too. It has to happen to somebody.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better? It didn't.”

“Maybe it was to help myself feel better. Even I need some comforting now and then.”

Ka'rta walked in. “Ajax, your turn at the helm. I'll take over in here.”

“Thanks, eighty.” Ajax walked out of the room.

Buckler glanced up at Ka'rta's face. He wasn't wearing a helmet. “So, I guess this is the part where you try to comfort me. My suggestion to you is: just don't. I don't need comforting. I can figure it out alone.”

“Okay, _ner vod._ I just came in here for a caf break. And maybe a game of Dejarik.” Ka'rta grinned broadly.

Buckler smiled weakly in response. “I promise you won't have to let me win.”

“Deal.”

They started the game, and it was obvious Buckler was still distracted. Ka'rta decided he needed to make a mistake right about now. Buckler picked up on the flaw and exploited it.

“Blast! Why did I do that?” Ka'rta could be a convincing actor, especially with frustration. It was a useful skill, being able to distract an enemy and lure them into a trap. That wasn't the objective here, though. It could also be a useful comforting skill.

Buckler seemed to start taking more interest in the game. He won in short order.

“See?” Buckler was in a _really_ good mood now. “You didn't even have to let me win.”

Ka'rta smiled inwardly, knowing his deception had gone unnotice. “Nope! You were right.” It looked like he was considering something. “Hey, let's play again. Maybe I can beat you.”

“Great. Competitive spirit. I like a challenge,” Buckler said, punching Ka'rta in the arm in that friendly way. “Let's go!”

This game went similarly to the last. Ka'rta ended up letting Buckler win again, but it still wasn't obvious. Buckler was doing better every turn. He even got Ka'rta into a fork at one point, threatening two of his opponent's pieces at once. Ka'rta responded by setting up a kintan strider death gambit.

“Ha! That's your kintan strider I've killed now,” boasted Buckler triumphantly. “Oh, wait… fierfek. It's a trap?”

“Oh, yeah, Buck. It's a trap,” Ka'rta confirmed. “And you walked right into it.” Ka'rta knew that if Buckler was playing even half as well as he usually did, he could see and avoid the trap. Nonetheless, Ka'rta was playing the psychological game, too.

Buckler furrowed his brow in concentration. Then he raised his eyebrows. “Did you _really_ set up a trap _this_ easy to get around?”

Ka'rta decided to respond with shock. “Wait, what? Aw, _osik._ ”

“Ha! That's the game!” Buckler exclaimed, pleased at his victory against such a move.

“Want to play a few hands of sabacc?” asked Ka'rta, acting suitably demoralized.

“Nah. You should get some sleep.”

“You sure, _vod?_ ”

“Yeah. You should rest up. Big op when we drop out of hyperspace.”

“You're right. You should get some sleep, too, Buck.”

“Yeah. Good night, _ner vod._ ”

“Good night.”

Buckler slept on the curved couch next to the Dejarik table and holoprojector, Ka'rta on the floor. You learned pretty quickly how to sleep in _any_ position when you were in the GAR. The two slept soundly until Bralor came in to wake them.

###  0800 hours, hyperspace lane near Carlac

“Ka'rta. Buckler. Get up!” came the harsh-sounding cry from Bralor. She never meant to be hard on the clones, it was just years of military training in her voice.

Buckler blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Mornin', sarge. We reach Carlac yet?”

“Almost, three. Time to get ready for the op.”

Ka'rta sat up. “All right. Time to kick some Death Watch _shebse_ , eh?”

“You got that right, _ad'ika._ ” Bralor ruffled his hair again.

The three walked into the cockpit. Ajax and Ca'ad were already there. Buckler looked at Ca'ad and frowned. Ka'rta patted his brother on the back, a feeble gesture that it was all going to be okay. Buckler shook the hand off. Ka'rta looked a bit shocked. But they were starting a mission. That meant the squad could simply shrug off any tensions between them and complete the mission. After all, that was what came first. At least, that was what Ka'rta was hoping. He could feel the palpable tension in the room change into pre-mission adrenaline. Buckler walked over to Ca'ad, to shake his hand in apology. Ca'ad accepted the hand. This made Bralor smile.

“She's all yours, sarge,” said Ajax, stepping away from the console.

“Thanks, Aje.”

While Bralor was piloting, the squad made gear checks. First, they made sure jetpacks were secure, then armor plates, and finally, all four donned their buckets.

“Standing by,” said Ajax. He had always been a bit of a stickler for protocol… at least on the battlefield. Anywhere else, and he'd be cracking jokes with the others.

The stars came back into view as white streaks on a black background. Then they shortened back to points of light. Bralor checked the position readings.

“We're in the right system. I've got readings on five Death Watch ships below. Let's finish this,” she said with enough determination to make even a Gundark cower. Under her breath, Ka'rta heard her say, “I've got a score to settle.”

“Ready,” commanded Ajax.

The commandos drew their weapons. For this mission, they had customized KiSteer 1284 sniper rifles and expensive WESTAR-34 pistols. Non-Republic issue weapons would help them blend in, Ca'ad surmised. _But it would sure be nice if I could use the kit I'm used to._

“Landing cycle engaged. Get ready to disembark,” Bralor informed.

“Copy that. Phi Squad, prepare for a long run.” Even with those words, Ajax was ready to be done with this mission. “Check your helmet seals and blaster charges. No resupply once we land. And it's snowing,” he added as he glanced out the viewport.

It was certainly snowing out there. None of them had seen anything so white, unless you counted the sterile hallways on Kamino. The four men lined up at the top of the docking ramp, ready to get into the action. Little did they know, that action was going to happen much sooner than they'd expected. The impact of landing shook the freighter a bit. Then the landing ramp opened in front of them to reveal a snow-covered landscape… and a circle of ten Death Watch super commandos.

### 

###  0830 hours, Death Watch Headquarters, Carlac

Phi Squad had to come up with something fast. They obviously weren't Death Watch, and they couldn't show their faces lest they be revealed as clones. Hopefully Bralor had gotten a message off to Coruscant. It wasn't a good time to be captured. But maybe, Ca'ad thought, he or Buckler could weasel their way into a deal, since the two were wearing Death Watch armor.

“You can't do this. You can't take a brother prisoner.” Ca'ad could do a _really_ good Mando accent if he tried.

The guard closest to Ca'ad sneered. “You're not my brother. You're one of Satine's _spies._ ” The guard stepped on Ca'ad's toes, futile because of the clone’s combat boots. It was the gesture itself that mattered. “Don't think we didn't notice you following us into hyperspace.”

 _So they don't know we're Republic. Let's keep it that way,_ thought Ajax. The other three also thought variations of the same.

The “New Mandalorian” spies were led into a rather large tent. Two guards wrestled each clone into kneeling on the floor. Pre Visla walked in from an adjoining room.

“It doesn't take you much time to set up camp, does it?” asked Ka'rta. He was promptly hit in the back with a rifle. “Alright, alright. Forget I asked.”

“I'll be asking the questions,” said Pre Visla, his back to the squad. “Why did the Duchess send you after us?”

“We don't work for Satine.” Ajax didn't always have the most tact. But he _was_ saving the Duchess from Death Watch's wrath.

“Then who _do_ you work for?”

“No one. We serve ourselves. We followed you so we could join up.”

“I don't think so. Your accent isn't Mandalorian, nor is it Concordian. In fact, you sound like the late Jango Fett. More accurately, you sound like a _clone._ ” He signaled a guard. “Take his helmet off.”

The guard nearest Ajax reached down to retrieve the helmet. Buckler, who was next to him, jumped off his knees to head butt the guard. The guard fell on his back, taking Ajax down with him. Ka'rta and Ca'ad jumped up and onto Pre Visla, knocking him down. Ajax got up, and attempted to pin the second guard. That guard punched Ajax in the helmet. Ajax continued to try to tackle him, succeeding after a few attempts.

Next was the problem of liberating their weapons and freeing their hands. Ka'rta, still pinning Visla with Ca'ad, took a lock pick from his belt. He somehow figured out a way to unlock his cuffs with it, and lifted Visla's darksaber. Ca'ad held up his hands, and Ka'rta cut the binders. He proceeded to do the same for his other two squadmates.

Ca'ad lifted Visla's blaster pistol from the other’s belt and pointed it at the leader's head. “Don't try anything,” he warned.

Visla laughed. “It looks like I’ve struck a nerve. You're _definitely_ clones. How does it feel, being bred to die?” he mocked.

“Like it does to be you right about now.”

Ka'rta turned off the darksaber. He picked up his WESTAR and Ca'ad's from the guard's belt. “I'll just be taking these,” he said, rather singsongily for the circumstances.

Buckler put the pair of binders he had just been wearing on the wrists of the guard he had pinned. He took his pistol from the guard's belt. “Ca'ad, _shoot him_. Take that man out _now._ ”

Ca'ad appeared to be trembling. It looked like he didn't have the will to execute an unarmed man. Visla kicked the weapon from Ca'ad's hand. “Guards!” he yelled. Three Death Watch soldiers rushed into the tent. Buckler shot the guard under him, then turned his barrel on the incoming soldiers. When he'd gotten his aim, he did a double-tap and dropped two. He'd gotten his sights on the third when Visla tackled him from the side. Ka'rta slotted the third. Ajax was still pinning the second original guard. He took a knife from the guard's belt and shoved it between the armor plates in the chest and twisted. Ajax was lucky he didn't hit a bone with the knife. Then, he took a pistol and aimed for Visla, who had his darksaber poised to slash Buckler in half. Ajax shot Visla's jetpack. It made a high-pitched squealing noise. He ran outside to ditch the jetpack, and it exploded after he threw it about five meters. This alerted the whole camp something was up. The sound of blasters charging and armor clanking could be heard all around.

“Fierfek, we gotta move. _Now!_ ” Ajax commanded. “They know who we are. And they're loaded. Get a comm open to Bralor. And scatter.”

“On it, boss.” Ka'rta was pressing buttons on his left gauntlet. “No can do on that comm. Buck, you try.”

“That's a thick interference signal. I'm not going to get anything through,” Buckler reported. “Wait a minute. There's something coming through.”

“What do you hear?” Ajax couldn't hear anything.

Buckler had the telltale two fingers pressed to the right side of his helmet. “It sounds like…” he moved to the east. “...a clone.”

Buckler patched the communication into the squad channel.

“... evacuation … transport … Concordia. Repeat, … Phi Squad …” The signal faded into static.

“Signal lost, sir. Too bad, it was just getting interesting.”

“Sounds like they sent help to the wrong planet. Can't count on an evac, though,” Ajax stated all their hopes and fears.

“If we can get back to Bralor, we'll be okay.”

“She probably took off the moment we left. Or she got captured, too.” Ca'ad was a real cynic sometimes.

“We have to check.” Buckler could be extremely hard-headed, especially when he was concerned for a family member. And Bralor was their mother.

“No. We go back to where the ship was, and if Death Watch took it, we find another way out of the system. Either way, we get _offplanet._ ” Ajax always seemed to have a plan.

Ka'rta was always optimistic. “We might get lucky.”

“Not that likely. Let's try to cut through the interference and send out a Red Zero.” Ajax looked like he was debating something else with himself. “Take separate routes to the ship's last known location. We'll meet to the west.”

“Copy that, boss.” Buckler continued walking, south of the others. He started jogging. He decided on a three-quarter circle, with a couple loops back to lose a potential tail. Twenty minutes later, a tiring five klicks, he met the other three.

“Where've you been?” Ajax seemed angry.

“You told me to take the scenic route, right?”

“Not a whole twenty minutes. We were about to move on without you.”

“Won't happen again.”

“Death Watch is inside the ship,” said Ka'rta, anxious to get moving. “That's a no-go.”

“I'll get working on cutting through the interference, then.”

“I found a ship about one klick north,” said Ca'ad.

“Too close to their base. It's probably a trap, too. Buckler,” Ajax began, “cut that static.”

“Already on it,” Buckler replied, typing madly into his portable transmitter. “I might get a Red Zero through now… got it. Hopefully there's a Republic ship within ten light-years.”

A light flickered on the transmitter, and a voice issued from it. “This is Admiral Wullf Yularen of the _Resolute_ in response to a Red Zero distress signal from Phi Squad. What is your status?”

Ajax responded, from his years of training. “We've lost our transportation off the planet and require an evac ASAP.”

“We can have a shuttle there in three hours. What coordinates should we meet at?”

“Thirty cross forty.”

“We'll be there in three hours. I hope you will be, too.”

“We will. Count on it.”

“I am.”

The communications device made a clicking sound, and Buckler put it back on his belt. “Let's get moving! Thirty klicks in three hours won't be easy, not through snow.”

The commandos started walking. The snowscape looked vast, unchanging, peaceful, and strikingly beautiful. They would get to the extraction on time. The commandos continued to trudge through the snow. This mission had gone so wrong from the beginning. It was quite relieving to have a lull in the action. But was there _really_ any rest for the weary commandos? A single blaster shot hit Ca'ad in the stomach. He fell backward.

“Ambush! Get down!” That command had been drilled into Ajax from the very beginning. Time had begun to slow for the squad. Combat always did that. They could do much more in a minute under the slowed timeframe of battle. Suddenly, minutes felt like hours.

Ka'rta, as the squad medic, crawled over towards the fallen Ca'ad. He proceeded to get out his medpac from a pouch on his belt. “I need some cover here. Ca'ad won't be coming back to base with us if I can't treat him here and get him on that shuttle. Cover me.” At first glance, it looked pretty grim. When Ka'rta got a better look at what had been hit, it looked _really_ bad. The shot had hit him squarely in the pancreas, and had knocked enough around to burst the spleen. He needed bacta.

Ajax signaled Buckler to take cover behind a nearby tree. Buckler acknowledged, and the other raised his pistol, taking aim at the place Ca'ad had been shot from. However, when Ajax turned on infrared, he still couldn't see anything.

“They've left. Set up a perimeter around Ca'ad. Ka'rta, can you get a signal off to our pickup to change the RV?” Ajax was still in crisis mode, it seemed.

“Buckler barely got anything through, sir. And he's better with that kind of thing than me,” the medic replied, trying to cauterize Ca'ad's internal bleeding. “I've also got my hands full here.”

Ajax made a kind of grumbling noise. “Fine. Buckler, get on it.”

Buckler set up his comms device again, and typed furiously to get something through the interference. “Admiral Yularen?”

“Phi Squad? What's your status?”

“We will _not_ make it to the rendezvous in time. Repeat, we are pinned down by an ambush and will _not_ make it to the rendezvous.”

Yularen sighed audibly. “Send us your coordinates and we'll change the pickup location.”

“Twenty-nine mark thirty, cross forty mark fifteen.”

“Redirecting shuttle now.”

“We've got wounded.”

“I'll tell the shuttle to expect wounded. _Resolute_ out.”

“So, we just have to hold this position for a half hour,” Ajax calculated.

“Ca'ad might not last that long, eight. He must have gotten desensitized to bacta. I'm getting no response from his body to it. We need to get him out of here.”

“Fierfek. Always _something_ going wrong, isn't there?”

“I _told_ him to stop those injections _._ But did he listen? No!” Buckler seemed more angry at himself than at Ca'ad. “Any more unfriendlies?”

“Nothing on infrared,” Ajax reported. “But it sure seems like they're here.”

The sound of yelling, definitely not a clone's, permeated the snowy forest. A shape could be seen on the horizon. It started to resolve into a humanoid, then a Mandalorian in full armor, then the color scheme revealed a Death Watch soldier. He continued yelling, until he had tackled the commando closest to him. Buckler wouldn't go down without a fight, though. He groped for the other man's throat, then used his skill in martial arts to get on top. But Death Watch had equally good training. The two wrestled in a lethal stalemate. Eventually, Buckler ejected a vibroblade from his gauntlet. That gave him the advantage for a few seconds, before the Death Watch assassin tasered his focus away. Buckler fell back on his years of training, taking control of his pain and using his fear. He brought his vibroblade up to the assassin's neck, and drew it across. He shoved the corpse off to the side, and got up, drawing his pistol.

There was a firefight on. Ka'rta was working to get Ca'ad under cover, and Ajax was pinned behind a tree. Ca'ad moaned slightly, sputtering blood. Buckler let a couple shots off into the direction of the blaster fire. He heard a yelp, but didn't lose focus. This was a situation where you needed to just keep firing, just keep dropping enemies until the shuttle arrived. Ajax left his cover position and fired towards the enemy positions. The falling snow wasn’t much help to their sight lines.

“I'm missing more than I'm hitting them. Does infrared work through this snow?” Buckler asked, looking for a better way than blindly shooting.

“It does. You might not like what you see, though.”

“Anything's better than blind firing.” Buckler turned on his infrared vision. “Fierfek. That's a lot of bogeys. Oh well, at least I can see them to hit them.”

Ka'rta soon joined them. “Ca'ad needs a new pancreas, spleen, and a lot of new blood. He's lucky the liver wasn't hit. I've done what I can for him. But without a hospital or proper OR, there's nothing more I can do for him right now, since he's immune to bacta.”

“That shuttle isn't going to get here in time, is it?” Ajax wasn't typically much of a worrier, and that wasn't changing now. He told himself he had to focus on the mission right now. They all did.

“Unless they happen to have spare organs, no. There's not enough time.”

“Help us defend this position, then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ka'rta joined the other two in a defensive position around Ca'ad.

“Want me to give them the surprise I packed?” asked Buckler.

“As long as it goes 'boom' or it's something that'll take some of them out,” Ajax replied.

“Took this beauty off that guard earlier,” said Buckler, holding up a flamethrower.

“That should do _nicely._ Use it to set up a perimeter. And make the circle big enough to land a Nu-class in.”

“You got it.” Buckler activated the wrist-mounted device, and began establishing their perimeter. Hopefully the fire wouldn't burn down their cover. It didn't. But the tall flames did keep Death Watch from getting any closer. Jetpacks wouldn't help here if things were too hot.

“Excellent work, thirty-three. Now we wait. And watch the campfire.”

The three battle-weary commandos sat next to their fallen comrade.

“I hate to say it, but that fire _will_ run out of fuel. There's not enough forest to burn indefinitely.” Ka'rta wasn't _always_ an optimist, then.

“In this snow, it might burn only the napalm that came from the flamethrower. Look, it's already dying down,” observed Buckler, disappointed.

“Then let's take what ammo and explosives we can from this assassin. We've got some time. Let's make our stand a good one.” Ajax was really inspiring when he felt like it.

The squad took everything useable off the body of the assassin. That included several grenades, a jetpack rocket, a blaster rifle, and a vibroblade. Ca'ad moaned. “Do I need to do anything, Ajax? I can still fight.”

Ka'rta made a gesture with two fingers across his throat. It meant that Ca'ad shouldn't push himself.

“No. Rest. You need to save your strength,” Ajax said.

Ca'ad nodded weakly and made sure there was still a pistol in his holster.

“Prep flash-bangs. And blasters,” Ajax directed. “This is going to be a fun one.”

“I'll flash-bang the group on the left,” Buckler volunteered.

“I'll throw deep,” Ka'rta informed.

“And I'll get the ones Buckler doesn't,” Ajax planned.

The first group of Death Watch soldiers to get through the fire came through. Buckler threw his grenade. Ka'rta threw his, quite a distance. He might never make a throw like that again. When it exploded, it stunned a cluster of soldiers just behind the fire. Ajax started laying down fire with his rifle. Soon the other two began using their blasters. Yells and screams were audible all around. It looked like Death Watch was not going to be successful in killing or capturing the clones. Then the squad heard Ca'ad fire his blaster.

“They're flanking,” Ca'ad yelled. Ka'rta whipped around and shot once, twice, three times in quick succession to take out as many foes. Three soldiers dropped to the ground. Ca'ad fired a second time. Another enemy dropped. Then the sniper yelped. Ka'rta looked down.

“Oh, _shab._ ” Ca'ad definitely wouldn't make it back to Coruscant. Not this time. He'd lost too much blood to the no-longer-white snow. That thought tore Ka'rta nearly in half. “Ajax, Ca'ad isn't going to make it. It looks like he reopened the wound in his spleen. I can't do anything for him now. Bigger problems,” Ka'rta said, dropping two more Death Watch. He began yelling wildly, running out to meet their enemies with extremely violent force. Every time he used his vibroblade, it felt good. Good to feel the pain in his knees when he hit one of them in the chest with it. Good to pull the trigger that would kill another one. Good to kill them all in Ca'ad's name.

Ca'ad groaned, loudly. “Take… down… the target.” He screamed in pain. “Kill Visla. And take… ugh…” a rather final-sounding cough. “... as many… of those… other _chakaare…_ as… you… can.” He inhaled one final time before his body fell limp. The pistol he was holding fell, for what felt to the others like years. Never again would Ca'ad raise a rifle to his shoulder. Never again would he have to fight pain. Never again would he say “goodbye.”

### 

###  1205 hours, RV point, Carlac

“Ca'ad? Seventy-six?” Buckler was in disbelief. “You have to be alive, _vod._ You can't die now. The shuttle's probably in the system. Don't die,” he pleaded.

“No use, Buckler. I'm sorry,” Ka'rta said. Their flank was safe for the moment. He ran over to Ca'ad's side, holding up two fingers to the side of the other's neck. “No pulse. He's… dead.” Ka'rta had several tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't believe he'd been able to say it. But he had said it. “I'm sorry, Ca'ad,” he sobbed. “Sorry I couldn't help you.”

Ajax was still fighting. “No time to grieve. We still have to hold out until that shuttle arrives.” He would have to focus his squad if they were going to get out of there. He wasn't entirely focused, though. His fear, anger, and sadness coalesced into something fierce. It was almost as though he had become a wild animal, killing without thought or feeling. Every time he heard a Death Watch soldier scream, his smile widened. He was a seasoned killer, a soldier. He was supposed to move on after every kill. He didn't have time to relish each one individually.

“We just lost a _brother!_ Our brother, who we trained with since _birth._ There's no going back to the fight now.” Buckler was throwing grenades with fierce force left and right. “We might as well surrender. Nobody else would die that way.” He prepared to throw away his blaster and put up his hands, when suddenly the three heard an incoming Nu-class shuttle. Very soon after, its A shaped wings began to fold back up into landing configuration, giving the craft a U shape.

“Get onto that shuttle. We're going home,” Ajax said, more than a hint of anger in his voice.

The door of the shuttle that had just landed fell open. Buckler stooped down to pick something up. It was Ca'ad's helmet.

“Buckler! Move it!” Ajax yelled, knowing that there were still Death Watch blasters being discharged in their direction.

Buckler ran into the shuttle where his two brothers were waiting. He sank down the wall to sit on the floor. “I can't believe it. Our pod brother. Dead,” he sobbed, placing the helmet of their late brother gently on the floor beside him. “We can't just leave him there, can we?”

Fate seemed to be conspiring against him, as the shuttle’s door closed and the ship began to take off. Their hearts sank, and not just because of the G-force.

The three commandos took off their helmets and placed them beside Ca'ad's. Ka'rta and Ajax sat next to Buckler, wordless. There were no words for this moment. Not yet, at least.

“It'll never be the same without him,” said Ka'rta, staring at his gloves. They were still covered in Ca'ad's blood.

Another person walked into the room. It was Rav Bralor.

Ajax stared in disbelief. “How…?”

He was interrupted by her hand, held up in a gesture of silence. “I called for an evac, too.” She paused, as if debating something, and sat on the floor next to the three clones. “Where's Ca'ad?” she wondered.

“ _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la_ ,” Ajax replied. Not gone, merely marching far away. It meant that Ca'ad would never be dead until his brothers forgot him.

Bralor then wiped a tear off her face with her glove. “I'm so sorry.” She started singing:

“ _Kote, darasuum kote.  
_ _Kandosii sa ka'rta,  
_ _Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad._ ”

At this point, the commandos recognized the ancient memorial chant, _Shi Taab'echaaj'la_. They joined in:

“ _Kote, darasuum kote.  
_ _Jorso'ran kando a tome.  
_ _Nu kyr'adyc,  
_ _Shi taab'echaaj'la._1”

The chant ended, and all four, not five, had tears to wipe from their faces. They sat in silence, at least for a while.

Ka'rta was again the one to break the silence. “I could have saved him if I'd just _tried._ ” He knew, though, in his heart, that he had done everything in his power. That truth felt like a heavy weight, right in the middle of his chest.

“He shouldn't have gotten shot. We weren't careful enough. We didn't think they were following us. How could we — no, how could _I_ — have been _so careless?_ ” Ajax clearly blamed himself.

They all blamed themselves.

Even Bralor.

“We didn't need to follow them here,” she said. “I was so single-minded. I just wanted to get back at Death Watch for what they did to my clan.”

“We all wanted to complete the objective,” Ajax said. He put a hand on his training sergeant's shoulder. “It wasn't your fault. When things started to go wrong, I guess we got sloppy.”

A door in the back of the shuttle slid open. “It's not your fault. _Any_ of your faults,” a voice said. Bardan Jusik walked in the door. “It's going to be a tough few months until we find you a fourth man. I realize this is going to be a _haastal,_ a bleeding emotional scar _._ But we'll manage. And you're going to come out of this stronger people and better soldiers. I know it.”

Jusik sat on the floor with the four Mando'ade and began the long process of emotional healing.

1In Basic, the chant translates to: Glory, glory eternal. One indomitable heart, forged like the saber in the fires of death. Glory, eternal glory. We shall bear this weight together. Not gone, merely marching far away.


	5. Short: Grief Counseling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the tragic death of RC-5376 on Carlac, Phi Squad struggles to find solace in the death of their comrade...

_**Arca Company Barracks, 348 Days After Geonosis** _

"I miss him," Ka'rta says simply into his holorecorder, a tear gleaming in his brown eye. "General Jusik has helped a lot, but nothing can replace Ca'ad. Nothing and nobody. No amount of grieving, no amount of counseling, can fill the empty bunk to my right. No one can wear those armor plates in the corner like he did."

The medic's gaze focuses on something off the camera. The twenty-two matte black plates stacked in the corner. More tears streaked the clone's face.

"It's so stupid, all of it. The way Ajax keeps brushing us off like flies, the way Buckler collapses every time he even glimpses those plasteel plates in the corner. The way I can never seem to bring a fork up to my face without crying, remembering he'll never again be around to share a meal with us. Even trying to sleep is a chore. I am haunted by the dream I had last night. Everything plays out the same as it did that day on Carlac, until we get into the shuttle and leave. He screams, still alive. I can't escape the dreams, the feeling that we left him there to become a hostage of Death Watch. That we left him there to die."

The commando looks obsessively at his hands.

"The blood stains are still there. No matter how much I try to scrub them away, his blood stays in my gloves. I know it's his blood. I haven't so much as looked at any other blood since yesterday."

The door behind him slides open, and Ka'rta carefully saves his recording and shuts down the recorder before looking back to see who has entered.

Another clone commando, his armor white with purple trim, takes a seat on the bunk across from the medic, removing his striped helmet. The face beneath is streaked with white, all that remains of freshly dried tears. All the same, he has a look of composure and calm.

The new arrival sighs, burying his face in two large, black gloves. A sob escapes his lips.

"So much paperwork," the clone says. "So many reports to file. And all of it only means one thing. Our brother, comrade, and friend is never going to come back to the Republic, dead or alive. The Jedi think that it's too much of a risk to send anyone after the body, and he's definitely dead by now, with as many of those _shabla_ _kyrt'sad_ were swarming us. They've probably taken his armor and stripped it for anything useful. It's awful."

Ka'rta says nothing, but can't help agreeing with his sergeant Ajax.

The door slides open again, and another armored figure enters, this one colored in green and yellow.

Ajax speaks first to the green one. "How was your debrief, Buck?"

Buckler heaves himself onto the bunk above Ka'rta, letting his feet dangle over the side. "Fine, I guess. General Zey grilled me for a long time about how unnecessary my anger is, and that this whole fiasco isn't my fault. I think he feels a little guilty."

"Guilty? A Jedi?" Ka'rta wonders. "They don't feel emotion."

"No," Buckler responds. "They just hide it. Sometimes they can't control it, and a little slips out into the open."

The room stayed silent, and Buckler glanced at the empty bunk. Hadn't it been his fault? Ca'ad was dead because of his bacta addiction, and Buckler had stood aside and watched it happen. _It was my fault. There's no two ways about it. I did nothing while he injected his life away._ A tear falls down his cheek, fresh and hot.

"Buckler," Ajax says admonishingly, "you did everything you could. Look at me."

Buckler gazes at his leader, almost daring him to say something cliche or unhelpful.

"I'm not going to speak ill of the dead, so if you want someone to blame, blame General Grievous. It was his blade that sent Ca'ad into the bacta tank in the first place. It was _his_ metal body that broke his arm."

Buckler remembers the Battle of Dantooine that had led to Ca'ad's addiction. Ajax is right, he reasons, about Grievous causing the whole catastrophe, but he is wrong about one thing. That doesn't absolve Buckler of the blame. He had stood by while his brother fell deeper and deeper into the pit of despair, while his brother struggled, using bacta long after he was completely healed. This is exactly why the doctors refuse to let anyone have bacta without a prescription or an empty medkit as proof it's been used.

Buckler still fails to remember how he tried to help. Long nights thinking about how to snatch his brother's stash from right under his nose. The days spent trying to talk him out of it.

Buckler had made a valiant effort to help his brother, but it hadn't been enough. Ca'ad was still dead.

The next day, all three are ordered to the conference room. When they enter, General Bardan Jusik sits at the head of the table, staring solemnly into the middle distance.

"Good morning," the Jedi greets Phi Squad. "Sit."

The three clones comply, spacing themselves carefully around the table. Their helmets are under their arms, and the clones set the items down gently on the table in front of them.

Jusik notes the space between the squadmates, and what it might mean. They are wary of attachment now that they have known loss. It reminds the Jedi of how and what he is told to feel. He questions whether or not the Jedi way is really the right way, but shoves the thoughts aside. He can meditate on that later. Now, these clones need his help, and he is bound by his oaths to help them. Not only that, but his conscience tells him he needs to help.

"Come closer," Jusik beckons the three. "In times of strife, we need to unite. It is times like these that we cannot afford to let ourselves grow apart. It's part of why Ca'ad got addicted."

Buckler wants to agree with Jusik as he moves in closer, but says nothing. He knows that Ca'ad's emotional separation had something to do with his depression and addiction, but refuses to say it out loud. It was his fault for not trying to get closer to Ca'ad.

The three clones are now sitting closer to each other, but they still seem like they are separated. Jusik can sense that each wants to figure it out for himself.

"I know you don't really want my help, so I'll give you some space to figure things out," the Jedi promises. "I'll be around if you ever want any help with it. But there's one thing I do want to tell you: that nothing alive really ever dies. Things fade from the Living Force into the Cosmic Force, where they become one with everything else, but they never die."

"Does that mean we can still talk to him?" Ajax asks, looking gloomily hopeful. "By meditating or something?"

"Sadly, no," Jusik answers. "Once a person merges with the Cosmic Force, they lose their identity, but they become a part of all other things. Including you."

A tear wells in Ajax's eye. Even the sergeant's toughness cannot withstand the burden of such a deep-cutting loss.

Buckler decides nothing else needs to be said, and gets up, taking his green and yellow-striped helmet off the table and putting it on. Once in the quiet and familiar privacy of the space, he continues to sob. Ca'ad is out there, but he can't be reached. He is lost, as far as the demoman is concerned.

"Where are you going?" Jusik asks, reaching out to calm the clone with the Force.

"I'm going for a walk," Buckler replies. "To figure some things out alone."

Jusik lets him go, nodding his approval. Even as he does so, a dark premonition enters his mind. He opens his mouth to tell Buckler to leave his sidearm, but the slicer has already left the room.

" _Shab_ ," the Jedi swears. "I'm going to go walk with him. Either of you can feel free to join us."

Ka'rta and Ajax spring to their feet, knowing what Jusik has realized. They hastily shove on their helmets, and make sure the squad comms are open. They can hear Buckler sobbing.

"Buck, don't do this," Ajax warns, his voice more harsh than intended. "Think about how torn up you are. If you kill yourself, how do you expect the rest of us to feel? This is the most selfish thing you could do right now. What would Ca'ad think of you for doing this?" He yells the question, and it stings even the one who spoke it.

Ajax's words stab Buckler right through to the heart. He untrains the sidearm from his chest, sobbing heavily. "He'd think I was a coward. And I am. But I couldn't put you through this again. Not so soon."

His two brothers and General Jusik barge into the 'fresher where Buckler knelt, DC-17 pistol clattering to the floor. The two armored clones rush to embrace their brother, not bothering to remove their helmets. The three figures are tightly woven together, a loving embrace of brothers and comrades in arms.

"Buckler, you'll never be alone as long as we're alive," Ka'rta promises. "You don't have to deal with this or anything else alone."

Jusik smiles, knowing he has done his job. As he turns, brown robes flow behind him, leaving the squad alone. Their grief is profound, and will take a long time to heal, but they have realized how to cope. They know now that it is more important than ever to be a family and support each other through everything.


	6. Part Three: Operation Heavy Metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following up on an equipment malfunction the squad experienced months ago on Geonosis, Phi Squad receives new orders to investigate a conspiracy at the core of the Grand Army of the Republic. For this mission, the squad gets a new sniper, but no one can replace Ca'ad...

“ _Ca'ad's death was just so… sudden. I knew he might not make it to the shuttle for surgery, but he just… died. Right there, in my arms.  
_ _I can't begin to describe how I felt in that moment when I realized it was too late, that... I couldn't save him. It was just too… tumultuous.  
_ _Do I have to go on with this_ shabla _debriefing? I'm — I'm sorry, General, but I just lost a pod brother.”_

Ka'rta, during his debriefing after the Death Watch mission

###  1300 hours, 480 days ABG, Arca Company Barracks briefing room

### 

“I'm sure the three of you remember the gunship that crashed trying to get to you on Geonosis a year and three months ago,” Jusik began. “That kind of accident isn't something you forget easily.”

“We remember, all right,” said Ajax. He hadn't been able to so much as smile since Ca'ad died. “But what's _that_ got to do with our next mission?”

“We've encountered a similar problem with several other gunships recently.”

“That's odd,” commented Buckler, intrigued but still looking depressed. “It wasn't an isolated malfunction?”

“No. We've traced it back to a Separatist cell based out of Rothana.”

“Rothana. As in Rothana Heavy Engineering?” Ka'rta looked incredulous. “From that planet, they could sabotage all our equipment. This could be a _huge_ problem.”

“That's why we're sending RCs. We need the _best._ ”

Ajax was staring at his feet. “We're still down a man, General,” he said, looking up. None of them wanted to emphasize the empty seat at the table, but Ajax had to.

“That's another reason we've brought you here. Come in, RC-9726.”

A commando with freakishly white and shiny Katarn armor walked in, helmet under his left arm. He raised his right hand to his brow in a sharp salute. “Sir!” he said.

It was pretty obvious to the real commandos in the room, from his strict sense of protocol, flash-learned accent, and unpainted armor, that twenty-six had been taken directly from the rank-and-file CT units. Ajax just hoped he was as good of a sniper as Ca'ad had been.

Jusik gestured to the vacant chair. “At ease, commando. We're all friends here.”

The newest member of Phi Squad, though he was a member in name only, replied with a curt “Yes, _sir!_ ” and proceeded to the indicated chair.

“Tracker was at the top of his class in marksmanship. He passed the RC qualifier test with a score 30% higher than was needed to qualify,” Jusik boasted.

“Can he hit a moving target two klicks out?” asked Buckler, with his arms tightly crossed. No one could replace Ca'ad in his eyes, _least of all_ a white job in Katarn armor.

“Well, RC-8233, I'm excited to test the full extent of my capabilities,” Tracker stated.

 _He doesn't have years of commando training under his belt,_ Buckler thought. _He will never be able to replace Ca'ad. I don't know what HQ was thinking, assigning us a meat can._

“Well,” Jusik continued, “now that you know the background for the mission, here are the details.” In the Force, the room was a confused mess of resentment, anger, fear, and sadness. It was strange, though. Jusik didn't sense the Dark Side. Buckler especially stood out, a real whirlpool of all of their emotions. Tracker felt… different. Jusik noted that. He was a mix of excitement, hesitation, and, chiefly, worry. Worry that he wouldn't be welcome, that he wouldn't fit in.

Jusik cleared his mind. “Your task, Phi Squad, is to track down the saboteurs and make sure they never sabotage our gunships or tanks again by destroying their virus.”

“So, assassination and data wiping?” Buckler seemed to cheer up a bit at this. “Sounds like _my_ kind of mission.”

Tracker couldn't take his eyes off the long, pointed scar on Buckler's forehead. The commando's baldness did nothing to hide it.

Buckler shifted in his seat. “See anything interesting, _nine-seven-two-six?_ ” he threatened the newcomer.

“What's the thing on your forehead?” asked the newly dubbed commando.

“A scar.” Buckler appeared to soften a bit. “Always wear a helmet,” he joked, “Especially when there's explosives around.”

Ka'rta laughed. Tracker looked confused. Ajax just gave Buckler his death glare.

Jusik observed the exchange with muted interest. “Go prepare for the mission. You leave at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow.” He gestured for the squad to exit the room. Ajax stayed behind. “Problem, sergeant?” asked the Jedi.

“Yes, sir,” the commando with purple stripes on his armor said. “HQ assigned us a _general_ _infantry_ unit for a fourth man.”

“He's as good a soldier as any of you,” Jusik stated. “Trained personally by Kal Skirata. What makes him worse than Ca'ad?”

Ajax tightened his fist at the sound of his brother's name. “The only thing he knows about Mandalorian culture is the lyrics of _Vode An._ He's far too observant of protocols, and he probably can't switch between weapon modes on a DC-17m when his life depends on it.”

“He's trained for a year for this opportunity,” Jusik explained, his calm air unfaltering. “Give him a chance, and if he doesn't prove his chops on this mission, then we'll find another sniper for you.”

“One year,” Ajax muttered, and sharply about-faced to exit the room. “He hasn't even been an RC since after Geonosis.”

***

Phi Squad's quarters were unusually quiet. At least, quiet for having four people in them. A stack of twenty-two matte black armor plates sat in the corner, never to be worn ever again. Next to the Katarn armor, there was a Mandalorian bucket, colored grey with blue highlights. Buckler couldn't stand to look at it. The memory was still too fresh, even four and a half months later. The squad hadn't been on many missions in that time, only two. It didn't help much. Now there was a new face in their pod. An outsider. That would only serve to make matters worse. Tracker wasn't even from a different squad trained by Cuy'val Dar. He was a CT, a complete stranger.

Ka'rta supposed that Tracker would become a commando while going on missions with them. He was the only one who felt so much as an iota of sympathy for the new guy. He'd start the initiation with some paint.

Tracker tried to settle in, lying on the bunk that used to be Ca'ad's. Ka'rta got up from his bunk to look over at Tracker.

“Hey, twenty-six,” Ka'rta said.

Tracker didn't look over.

“Tracker,” Ka'rta tried. He must have gotten renumbered when he'd become an RC.

This time, Tracker turned to face Ka'rta. “Yes, eighty?” It didn't seem like he'd quickly start using names.

“Wondering if you wanted to liven up that armor of yours. White looks a little too… clean.”

“Respectfully, I don’t know. Regulation 336.27 says…” Tracker was interrupted by the other clone.

“We play by a different set of rules,” the medic informed. “You’re an RC now.”

“Well, okay. Where's the paint?” Tracker asked, hesitantly climbing down the bunk ladder to the floor.

“Well, that depends what color you'd like.”

Tracker thought a moment. “How about red? Or orange?” The new guy was warming up to the idea of paint quite nicely.

“Why not both?” Ka'rta said, jumping off his bunk. “Let's go find some paint.”

Ka'rta led the way to a storage locker on the other side of the barracks. “Take your pick,” he said.

Tracker looked over the selections. There was red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, black, white… He looked closer. It was definitely white paint. “Why is there white paint? Isn't the armor already white?” he asked.

Ka'rta chuckled. “For mixing with other colors. You can get some nice shades by mixing with black or white.”

Tracker looked at his armor. Suddenly he started to see different patterns. He could do a checkerboard, stripes, curves, camo… The possibilities seemed endless. He quickly stripped down to his black bodysuit and grabbed green, brown, black, white, and grey. He began to paint.

### 

###  1445 hours, Phi Squad Quarters, Arca Company Barracks

Buckler was glad Tracker had a friend in Ka'rta, but he was still coming to terms with the death of Ca'ad. Everyone grieves in their own way, he guessed. “Why was it him? Why Ca'ad?” he asked no one in particular.

Ajax replied. “It'll be okay, Buckler. He's not _really_ gone if you carry him with you wherever you go. I _promise_ everything'll be okay.” At the very least, he _thought_ it would all turn out okay in the end. Then again, they could all die at any minute. Ca'ad's death had taught them that much. Nobody lives forever.

Buckler was audibly sobbing into his pillow. “Why?” He repeated the question over and over in between sobs.

Ajax went to Buckler's side and patted him on the back. “I don't know why. But I do know that we can't change what happened.”

“I would gladly change places with him. I'd give up _anything_ to see him again. I just can't believe I was still mad at him when he died.”

“It's not your fault, Buckler. There was nothing any of us could have done to save him.”

“Yes, there is. He died because Ka'rta couldn't use bacta to heal him. He died because I didn't try hard enough to get him to stop taking those _shabla_ injections.”

Ajax suddenly realized why Buckler still hadn't reached any kind of understanding with Ca'ad's death yet. He still blamed himself. Buckler thought he had killed Ca'ad as much as the person who had pulled the trigger. “It's okay. You'll get through this. Get some sleep,” the sergeant encouraged. “You'll feel a lot better.”

Buckler ended up crying himself into an uneasy sleep that afternoon.

***

Two hours later, Ka'rta and Tracker walked back into their quarters. Buckler was fitfully sleeping, and Ajax was reading a holozine. The leader held a finger to his lips and pointed at Buckler. Ka'rta nodded, and made a signal for Tracker to put on his helmet. It was painted with a tan, grey, and grey-green camouflage. The rest of his armor was the same colors.

Once Ka'rta had put on his helmet, he started talking to Tracker. Their helmets were blissfully soundproof. “I didn't have the heart to tell you this back in the paint room, but your armor looks a bit like Buckler's with the camo and all.”

“Better than it looking like Ca'ad's.”

Ka'rta nearly reached over to slap the new sniper. He restrained himself. “Don't make jokes about him,” he said, testily. “It's still too fresh.”

Tracker replied, shocked. “I shouldn't have said that. Regulation 936.32: never talk about past deployments: they may be classified. I’m so _insensitive._ ”

Ka'rta softened. “It's all right. We all make mistakes. Why don't we go down to the mess and see what they have for dinner?”

“Sure. Should we invite oh-ei…sorry, _Ajax?_ ”

“Why not?” Ka'rta stepped over to Ajax and tapped him on the shoulder. When Ajax looked up, Ka'rta made a gesture that looked like he was bringing a fork up to his faceplate. Ajax nodded an affirmative, then scrawled a note for Buckler. “1700: gone to mess hall,” it read. The three walked out of their quarters, purple, yellow, and grey helmets taken off and carried under their left arms.

### 

###  0745 Hours, 481 days ABG, Arca Company Barracks landing pad

For Phi Squad, it was the first mission in five months that they'd had a four-man squad. Ajax was closest to the place they knew their transport would land. Next was Buckler, then Ka'rta, then Tracker. For Buckler, it was good to be wearing his Katarn armor again. It felt safer than _beskar'gam._ That must have been because they had lost a brother when they were wearing Mando armor. Or maybe because Katarn armor was familiar. Maybe both. Buckler didn't care why. He just felt like he was at home.

“I think I hear our gunship,” said Ajax, interrupting Buckler's thoughts.

“I hear it, too,” confirmed Ka'rta.

An LAAT/i gunship came down to land in front of the squad. “Let's move, let's move!” Ajax yelled over the engine noise. Phi Squad did as they were commanded.

Once the gunship doors slid shut, a hologram activated in the center of the hold. It was the lieutenant from Geonosis, the squad's advisor. “Nice to finally see you, two-six,” he started.

Tracker replied with a salute.

“Now that the introductions are over, I'll point you to your first objective,” the advisor continued. “Your first task is to locate the Separatist infiltrators and take them out.”

“Doesn't sound too hard,” commented Buckler, quite cheery. The prospect of a mission always seemed to cheer him up, even now that he'd lost a brother.

“That's the spirit!” Ka'rta punched him on the shoulder in that friendly, masculine way. “Nice to see you back in the spirit of things.”

“Always feels good to get in a larty,” Buckler returned. “Like I'm finally home.”

“I hate to break up the party, but you _are_ going to a mission. Can I have your attention?” The advisor seemed amused.

Ajax used his death glare to great effect with Ka'rta. “Yes, Advisor, you have our _undivided_ attention.”

“Excellent. You're currently headed for the _Vengeance_ , which is bound for Rothana. Once on planet, you are to report to RHE Headquarters. There, you should be able to locate the Separatist infiltrators. Employees have been instructed to give you their full cooperation. Those who don't… Let's just say you aren't responsible for what happens to them.”

“We'll be maintaining open comms with you, I take it?” Ajax questioned.

“For the moment, yes. Rothana is Republic-controlled, so yes, oh-eight.”

“Excellent. I like it when we can know what the hell's actually going on.”

“You'll be docking with the _Vengeance_ shortly. Good luck on Rothana.” The hologram fizzled out of existence and there was a distinct thud. Phi Squad had landed on the _Vengeance._ The gunship doors flew open, and Phi Squad stepped out. Several flight deck clones stared at the colorful squad. Some even whispered to the people next to them. The RCs had arrived.

Tracker was amazed. “Why are they _staring_ at us like that?” he wondered.

“Don't you remember being one of them? Wouldn't _you_ have stared at the tank-like RCs back then?” Buckler could pull off a _very_ good soft but menacing tone.

“I-I suppose so, sir. Even considering Regulation—” Tracker confessed.

“Keep this comm clear,” said Ajax. “It's not for banter.”

“Sorry, boss. But we _do_ have some down time right now,” Ka'rta pointed out.

“Right.” Ajax's tone softened. “We'll meet back here at 1000 hours. Go do… whatever it is you'll do for the next…” Ajax looked down at his chrono. “...two hours.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Ka'rta, taking off his yellow-marked helmet.

Some of the flight crew personnel audibly gasped. Ka'rta even heard one of them gasp, “They _are_ clones!” This made him smile inwardly. But the thought of being a clone was almost a curse for him. Ca'ad had been a clone, too. Why should one die and not the other? It didn't seem right. Then again, nothing seemed right. The new man in their squad, the new sniper, wasn't really an RC. He hadn't trained for ten years under Bralor like the rest of them had. He'd trained with Kal Skirata for _one_ year. Tracker couldn't _possibly_ stack up to Ca'ad. On the other hand, Tracker was a clone. He just needed a place to fit in. So why not be his friend? They were already brothers. Ka'rta decided to walk over to Tracker, maybe even play a few hands of Sabacc.

“Tracker,” Ka'rta said.

The commando turned to face his yellow-marked friend. “KAH-rtah, right?”

“That's my name, but were you reading off your HUD?” Ka'rta asked. “You say the word like someone who never heard it pronounced. It's kah-ROT-ah.”

“Huh. I'll make a note of that,” Tracker promised. “Anyhow, what do you want?”

“How about a few hands of Sabacc?”

“I'd like that,” Tracker replied. “But I'll have to find the deck in my forearm plate,” he joked.

“C'mon. I know the way to the mess. We can play with a couple of shiny boys.”

“Is _that_ what RCs call us rank-and-file troopers?”

“Sometimes. There's also meat can, white job, GI, and reg for regular.”

“Meat can?” The sniper looked hurt. “I have a lot of slang to learn,” Tracker observed.

“And some Mando'a,” Ka'rta added.

The two walked off the flight deck smiling and chatting. Somehow, his brother's kindness and acceptance seemed to lift a heavy weight from Ajax's chest. Like finally he'd been able to find peace with the fact Ca'ad had died. Ajax felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and saw Buckler. His green helmet was off, and the commando was smiling.

“You want to follow those two? I heard some talk about a couple hands of Sabacc,” Buckler said.

Ajax grinned. “You know I'm a sucker for a game. Sure.”

Buckler gestured towards the door the other two had walked down. “Let's go before they get too far away,” he said.

Ajax started following his brother. _Seems like Buckler has also found some temporary relief from his grief,_ he thought. _That's good. Maybe we'll pull off this mission yet._

***

Later, in the _Vengeance_ 's mess hall, four commandos were playing what looked like an intense game of Sabacc. Several other clones stood nearby, watching. Tracker suddenly grinned quite widely. Ka'rta decided to exchange his card for another in the deck. He wasn't likely to get “bombed out.” A frown spread across his face. The _one_ card he shouldn't have gotten… was the one he got. He turned over his cards and said, “Bombed out. Blast!”

“Pure sabacc,” said Tracker, showing his hand.

“ _Shab!_ ” said Buckler. “That beats my -20. Why did I bet so much?”

Ajax smiled quite widely. “ _Vode,_ I present to you the magnificent Idiot's Array,” he said, holding up his hand of the Idiot, plus a two and a three, both Coins.

Tracker stared in disbelief. “Is this deck marked or something? Are you cheating? That's the fourth hand in a row you've won.”

Ajax just smiled coldly. “Just lucky,” he stated.

Ka'rta whispered to the sniper: “He loses. Every time Mos Eisley has a cold front.”

Buckler whispered back. “Ajax has a Sabacc gene. But don't tell the Kaminoans,” he joked. “They'd think he has a defect.”

Tracker and Ka'rta laughed. Buckler hadn't lost his sense of humor.

“You really think so? Thanks, _vode._ ” Ajax didn't lose his cool.

“Maybe we should start teaching the _Dha Werda,_ ” suggested Ka'rta. “Sabacc is so boring when Ajax wins.”

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a shipwide alert: “Warning. Our navigation systems have gone offline. Repeat, nav systems offline. All crew to battle stations.”

“Fierfek,” Buckler said, getting up and donning his green helmet. “Do the Separatist infiltrators know we're after them?”

Ajax already had his bucket on. “I sure as kriffing hell hope not.”

“If they know about us,” Ka'rta began, “We're in deep _osik._ ”

Tracker unholstered his DC-17m. “I think there's one on the ship,” he declared. “So let's find him.”

“We can't prove that,” Ajax countered.

“Let's see if anyone's leaving in an unscheduled launch,” Buckler prompted. “That's probable cause.”

“They'll be scrambling all fighters,” replied Ajax. “That method's no good.”

“What if we looked for a mongrel officer trying to leave?” asked Tracker.

Ka'rta replied. “I'm checking the crew roster right now. The only mongrel aboard is the Captain. And he's been on deployment since before the battle of Kamino.”

“So if the saboteur is aboard, he's a clone.” Buckler gulped. “A brother.”

“It was always a possibility,” Ajax pointed out. “And it's starting to look that way. Big time.”

###  0915 hours, Venator-class Star Destroyer Vengeance, approaching Rothana

“Advisor, this is RC-3608 of Phi Squad with a sitrep.”

“What's your status, oh-eight?” the lieutenant replied.

“ _Vengeance_ is encountering problems. Consistent with the pattern of sabotage you've seen.”

“You believe the saboteur is on board _Vengeance?_ ”

“Possibly. If he is, we're dealing with a traitor, a clone.”

“Take out the saboteurs, no matter _what,_ Phi. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Ajax replied with a salute. The comlink was disconnected. “Buckler,” he began, issuing orders as was his instinct. “I want you to slice the network and see if you find anything out of place. Try to trace the source of anything you find.”

“Yes, sarge. With pleasure,” replied Buckler, cracking his knuckles. He sat down next to a console and accessed the mainframe. “Hey, boss?”

Ajax nodded in acknowledgement.

“Should we tell the bridge crew I'm doing this?”

“No,” the sergeant replied. “We don't want the person behind this to spook.”

“Aye, sir.” The slicer went back to work. He was breaking through around twenty levels of security, to get at the most critical data. This was where he found something. “You might want to take a look at this, sir.”

“What did you find?”

“Looks like this virus was planted in the nav system by a clone in room 3618.”

“That's pilot quarters. Who's currently in those quarters?”

“Looks like CT-05/2201.”

“Tracker,” Ajax turned to face his newest charge. “Let's find that pilot.”

“Right away, sir,” the sniper replied.

The two left the practically empty mess to look on the hangar deck. That left Ka'rta and Buckler there. One other clone was still in the mess hall. Ka'rta went over to him.

“What's your name, trooper?” the commando inquired.

“CT-12/7839, sir.”

“No, I mean your _name._ What do your batchers call you?”

“Three-nine, if they're feeling comfortable.”

Ka'rta's stomach dropped. This trooper didn't have a name. “Do you know CT-05/2201?” the commando inquired.

39 looked pensive. “The pilot?”

“Yes. Do you know where he would be right now?”

“Well, after the General Quarters, he'd be on the hangar deck. I believe he flies Torrent F-23.”

“Thanks, three-nine. You should report to your assigned post now.”

“Yes, sir!” The nameless trooper stood sharply and replied with a salute.

Ka'rta raised his left gauntlet and tapped a few buttons. “Ajax,” he said into his comm, “Our friend 2201 is probably in Torrent number F dash two three.”

“We've already got him,” the sergeant replied. “The console in his quarters was used, all right. But it was using somebody else's access code.”

Ka'rta heard an impatient clone's voice over the comm. “Can I get to my fighter now? My CO won't be very forgiving when I'm late.”

“Yes. Go on. The Republic needs you.”

The pilot laughed, and Ka'rta heard receding footsteps, at a running pace.

Ka'rta broke off the comlink. “Buckler, I think Ajax has an access code for you to track.”

“He's already sending it,” replied the slicer. He was typing madly. “Traced it. The access code belongs to a CT-12/7839.”

Ka'rta looked like a seasick sailor. “Fierfek. That's the clone who was here after Ajax left.” The medic quickly ran out of the room toward the turbolift, opening his squad comlink as he ran. “Ajax, we've been compromised.”

***

The other three members of the squad stopped what they were doing.

Ajax even stopped breathing for a few seconds. You could hear _everything_ over a helmet comm. “ _Fierfek._ I shouldn't need to tell you how bad this is.”

“You don't.”

“We should notify HQ.”

“Already done, boss,” Tracker said. “Regulation 97.23: report in any major developments as soon as they happen. Just got off the comm with the advisor. It's going to get real messy, real fast.”

“You got that right,” Buckler acknowledged. “I need to log off. I don't want any connection to those files. I still haven't found all the virus, Aje.”

“Have you deleted what you could find?” Ajax asked.

“Yes, sir. But nav's still offline. I even tried a navicomputer reboot. No such luck. I'm missing something. Something _big._ ”

“We need to work fast. Our cover's blown. Those Seps down on Rothana are going to spook.”

“Can we ask them to lock down the planet?” asked Tracker. “Regulation—”

Ka'rta interrupted him, not wanting to hear him quote another blasted regulation. “That's not actually a bad idea. We have clearance to land, so let's ground all outbound transports and get down to the surface. We've got enemies to find.”

“We should also have the Captain lock down the hyperspace rings,” added Buckler, who was now on his way to the hangar. He opened his comlink to the Captain. “Captain Ozzel, this is RC-8233 requesting a lockdown of all hyperspace rings. We have reason to believe there is a saboteur aboard.”

“Why should we lock down the hyperspace rings?” the captain asked.

“The saboteur knows about our mission and will probably attempt to flee the system.”

“Very well.” Ozzel turned to a nearby officer. “Lock down all hyperspace rings and hyperdrive-enabled craft,” he ordered.

The officer he ordered turned. “There is a shuttle leaving at this very moment. Shall I lock it down as well?”

“Yes! Lock them _all_ down!” Buckler urged.

The officer punched buttons on his console furiously. “Can't lock it down,” he reported. “Sending all available fighter squads to intercept and block its escape.”

“ _Shab!_ ” Buckler cursed. “This _always_ happens.”

Ten V-19 Torrents circled around the Nu-class shuttle to block its escape. One pilot opened a comm to the shuttle. “Stand down and return to the hangar bay immediately.”

There were several moments of clean, soundless silence. Then all hell broke loose. The pilot of the shuttle responded to the ultimatum with a burst of fire from his forward cannons, taking out one of the fighters. The remaining Torrents opened fire. The shuttle was destroyed.

Phi Squad had all made it to the hangar bay in time to look through the open landing strip doors and see the pyrotechnic display.

Ajax saw the fighter get blown out of the sky.

Tracker noticed the other Torrent open fire.

Buckler saw several distinct flashes of light, then a big explosion. The shuttle.

Ka'rta had just stepped out of the turbolift on the other side of the hangar when he felt the explosion reverberate through the ship.

“Looks like we won't be getting any information from 39,” Ajax mused.

“It won't be very easy to find the rest of those saboteurs,” inferred Ka'rta. “I'm sure 39 told them we were looking.”

“Well, let's find out.”

The four walked over to an idling gunship from their different positions. The pilot was CT-05/2201. “Nice to see you again,” the pilot said.

“I thought you were a Torrent pilot,” said Ajax.

“Not always. Sometimes they put me in one of these.” He gestured to the gunship. “Where you all going?” he asked, closing the doors and lifting out of the hangar.

“Take us down to Rothana,” replied Ajax.

“Yes, sir.” This pilot had a sense of humor, it seemed.

Buckler spoke. “So, anybody have a plan for this mission?”

“Well,” began Ka'rta, “we could ask everybody some questions. Ask nicely if they planted a computer virus in the _Vengeance_ 's navicomputer.”

“Or we could find the virus and trace it to its origin,” Tracker suggested.

“That might be hard,” Buckler reasoned. “But I like a good challenge.”

“We can see who bolts first when we spread rumors about our mission,” Ka'rta suggested.

“How about a combination of those plans?” wondered Ajax.

“That might work,” answered Buckler.

The squad stood in silence the rest of the trip to the surface. Each commando was wondering if they'd make it down to the surface. Did this gunship have the virus? Was it spreading to every piece of artillery, starfighter, tank, gunship, and capital ship in the GAR? How many more clones — brothers — would die before they located the problem and eradicated it from the GAR's systems?

Sometimes, it was better _not_ to think about such things. This time included. It was best, Ajax decided, to focus on the task at hand and get the virus out of the system _before_ worrying about all those casualties. And once they'd figured out what the code looked like, Ajax reasoned, they could identify and destroy the virus _everywhere_ at once. He snapped out of his trance and focused on his breath, like he'd been trained to do before every mission. Meditation was _quite_ relaxing sometimes.

The pilot broke the silence. “Can I ask what you boys are doing down planetside?”

“No,” Ajax answered. “You may ask, but we can't respond. Something about 'classified.' Never really understood why we're so top secret, though.”

The pilot snickered. “Anything to do with the ship's nav malfunction?”

“That's why we were in your quarters, yes,” replied the sergeant smoothly. “But that has only a limited bearing on our real mission on Rothana.”

“I see,” laughed the pilot.

Ka'rta couldn't see what was so funny. He decided to shut off his comms and get some sleep. Tracker had kept him up the night before with some pretty good stories and jokes about life as a white job. He drifted off, and soon found himself in the netherworld of dreams.

***

It was snowy. And cold. Ka'rta could definitely feel the chilly Carlac wind cutting through his bodysuit. In front of him lay a bleeding Ca'ad. Ka'rta was working busily to cauterize the internal wounds. Blaster shots were screaming past left and right. He could even hear explosions. But all of it seemed distant. He felt detached, as though someone else was making his body move. This dream had troubled his sleep for months. But it felt different this time. Ca'ad wasn't screaming like he had that day four months ago. He wasn't dead, either. Suddenly, the injured sniper cried out in pain louder than he ever had in reality. Ka'rta worked fast, too fast for his hands to keep up with his brain. It wasn't fast enough. Ca'ad's heart stopped beating. His wounds stopped bleeding in earnest.

“He's dead,” Ka'rta said, unemotionally.

“Then come over here and help us,” responded Ajax.

***

“No… no…” Ka'rta muttered in his sleep. “This isn't right.”

Buckler gave Ajax a concerned glance. Ajax waved him off. “He'll be okay,” the gesture seemed to say.

***

Ka'rta flung himself at the flanking Death Watch warriors. He felt true pain, like he could never experience through Katarn armor. It was good to feel so much tangible pain. The emotional torment he felt was so unfamiliar. The sensations of punching, kicking, and stabbing. Those were familiar. This was not that strange, emotional flip-flopping. Grief was strange. Battle was real. That was what mattered. In the distance, a sound became audible. The sound of an LAAT/i. A Nu-class attack shuttle landed. Phi Squad hopped in, still firing at the enemy positions. Just as the door started to raise to closed, Ca'ad's dead form, resting against a nearby tree, rose and began yelling.

“Wait! Don't leave!” its voice said. It was like Ca'ad's, but not exactly. It was more shrill-sounding and eerie than the commando's real voice. “I'm not dead! _You can't leave me here!_ ”

As Phi Squad departed, Ka'rta heard an inhuman screech of pain from the ground down where Ca'ad must have been. A scream so shrill and inhuman its sound could not be unheard…

***

Ka'rta jolted violently awake. _This must be the LAAT/i I heard,_ he thought. _It really was a Nu-class four months ago._

“You all right, _ner vod?_ ” Buckler wondered. His hand reached out to Ka'rta's shoulder.

“It was that dream again, Buckler. The one about Ca'ad,” Ka'rta replied. “But it was different. He got back up and screamed at us after he died.”

“That must have been _terrifying_ ,” Buckler consoled.

“Strap yourselves in,” the pilot yelled over their screaming entrance into Rothana's atmosphere. “We're getting close to the LZ.”

“Understood,” Ajax replied. “Phi Squad, let's get ready to go.”

Buckler gave Ka'rta a final, comforting pat on the back. Then both checked the other's survival packs and gave the “you're all good” thumbs-up. Buckler loosened his DC-17m in his belt.

“You might not need that, Buck,” Ka'rta said, noticing the action.

“We might, though. Can't be sure of anything,” Buckler responded. “I don't want to be the _one_ guy still unholstering his Deece when the shooting starts.”

“Hopefully the shooting _never_ starts,” Ajax expressed.

Buckler laughed aloud. “That'd be a change.”

There was a distinct thud as the LAAT/i landed. The doors parted to reveal a snow-streaked, rocky landscape. Directly beneath the gunship was a metal landing pad. Phi Squad stepped off the transport and proceeded to the front door of Rothana Heavy Engineering.

###  1030 Hours, Rothana Heavy Engineering Factory, Rothana

### 

A female Rodian stood just inside the RHE door to greet Phi Squad as they entered the facility. “Welcome to Rothana Heavy Engineering. We hope your time here is pleasant,” she said.

Buckler smiled to himself under his helmet. He didn't think she knew how to talk to clones. And, of course, being a civilian, she didn't. But this was RHE, the primary equipment manufacturer for the GAR. One would think she'd seen a clone before. Or maybe she just thought RCs were to be treated differently than their more common brethren. Buckler's train of thought was interrupted by Tracker, who walked right into his back.

“Sorry!” the sniper said.

“It's okay,” Buckler replied. “I was lost in thought. I kinda needed that push,” he admitted.

Tracker stood up a little straighter after that, obviously smiling. “Glad I could do you a favor, then,” he said.

The squad proceeded down the hall behind the Rodian. She led them to an overlook, a place where the clones could see the full extent of the production line. The factory was at least as large as the parade grounds on Kamino where the clones had first boarded their ships to leave for Geonosis, approximately 600 by 600 meters. “This is where we manufacture everything for the Republic.” She gestured to the operation below. “As you can see, this area is under tight security, and it would be nearly impossible to sabotage our equipment at this phase of production.”

So she _did_ know about Phi Squad's mission. Ajax was the one to reply. “With all due respect, ma'am, we'd like to see your computer systems.”

The woman nodded. “Right down this hall.” She gestured to the squad's right, and began walking that direction. The commandos followed her until a door appeared on their left. It slid into the wall, revealing a medium-sized room, with holodisplays wherever there was space. The content of those displays included animated diagrams, blueprints, schematics, stress test results, sensor data on alloy composition, more quality control data… Tracker lost track of all the different data on the displays.

“So, which do I use?” asked Buckler, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

The woman pointed to a display in the corner. “The terminal over there has access to all our file systems, and the software we load onto our products,” she stated.

Buckler walked over to the indicated station. The squad followed, waiting to watch the master at work. Buckler sat down and began searching. First, he looked in the source files for the preloaded software. “Got something that doesn't belong, Ajax,” he reported. “Here, in the LAAT/i software.”

“That looks like the same bug we found on the _Vengeance_ , if I'm not mistaken,” responded Ajax.

“It is,” confirmed Buckler. “And it has the same effect, except they identified the malfunction on the Venator. The gunships don't have the same diagnostic programs, so they can't catch the flaw.”

“Yet,” Ka'rta added.

“Yeah, yet,” Buckler conceded. “This code is similar in structure, so it looks like the same group was responsible.”

“But 39 wasn't here to put this bug in these systems,” Tracker pointed out.

“So someone else was using 39's access code to put the virus onto the Venator,” Ka'rta concluded.

“Not necessarily,” Ajax pointed out. “39 might have received the code in a transmission.”

“How?” asked Tracker. “It's not like he could get a transmission containing virus code without _someone_ seeing what it was.”

“Unless the code was hidden somehow, encrypted in plain text.”

“Possible,” admitted Buckler.

“Tracker,” Ka'rta beckoned, “let's start reviewing the _Vengeance's_ received transmissions from the last week.”

Tracker heaved a disappointed sigh. “Oh, fun times.”

“It's not _that_ bad,” Ka'rta dismissed. “We could go over the messages from the last _month._ ”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Tracker agreed.

“Let's get on it, then.” Ka'rta made a wide, circular beckoning gesture. Tracker followed him over to a communications console. They hailed the _Vengeance,_ and Captain Ozzel answered.

“ _Vengeance_ here,” the captain stated.

“Phi Squad calling,” Ka'rta answered. “We'd like access to all your incoming comms from the last week.”

“For what reason?” Ozzel asked, suspicious.

“We're looking for snippets of source code that may be hidden in a comm,” the medic explained. “We need to know the band the comms were sent on, the time they were sent, and the message content. The code could be hidden _anywhere._ ”

Ozzel grumbled. “Sending the data now.”

A large amount of data was downloaded to the computer terminal. About a hundred gigabytes worth. There were a lot of transmissions to and from a capital ship, even in the short timeframe of a week.

“Thank you, Captain. This is a lifesaver.”

“You're welcome,” replied the captain flatly.

The communication ended, and there was now all this data to sift through.

“I'll get started on putting this data into the search algorithm,” Tracker volunteered.

“I'll configure the algorithm,” Ka'rta replied. “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, Ka'rta?” responded the slicer.

“Can I have a copy of the virus code you found on the _Vengeance?_ ”

“Sure,” Buckler answered. “Uploading to your station.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“No problem. I'll always have your back.”

Ka'rta laughed joyfully. “Good to know.” He began typing, then accessed the code sent by Buckler. He pressed the “start search” button with a bit of added vigor. “Search parameters entered. Time to sit back and wait for it to find something.”

File names flashed across the display, as the search algorithm perused the given data for the virus code. A progress bar showed the percent of files remaining. About three-quarters of the way through the transmissions, a window popped up. “MATCH,” the window read. “COMMUNICATION 438.15 MATCHES SEARCH PARAMETERS.”

“Hey, Ajax,” Ka'rta exclaimed. “Looks like the code was transmitted in a message to CT-12/7839. The code was hidden in an attachment, a file that looks like a systems upgrade.”

“Was 39 a tech, then?” asked Tracker.

“'Did the file come from RHE or KDY?' is the more important question,” dismissed Buckler.

“Looking,” Ka'rta replied. “Verified as coming from Kuat Drive Yards orbital shipyards on day 438 ABG.”

“So the virus is disguised as a software patch from KDY,” Ajax mused. “We've got _serious_ problems.”

“Should I send a message to Fleet telling them _not_ to accept a KDY nav patch from three days ago?”

Buckler answered. “Not worth the trouble. The damage has probably already been done.”

“But they can stop the virus being downloaded onto other ships,” Ajax reasoned. “Go ahead with that, Ka'rta.”

Ka'rta quickly typed and sent the message to Republic Fleet Command. It read:

“We have discovered something in our search for Separatist saboteurs at Rothana Heavy Engineering. There is a virus disguised as a Kuat Drive Yards nav system software patch sent on 14:9:16, 438 days after Geonosis. This virus will shut down navigation systems on any vessel that installs it. Please advise all Republic vessels. Phi Squad out.”

“Message sent, sarge. Hope they pay attention to it,” Ka'rta asserted.

“They will. Everyone probably knows about these problems by now…” Buckler noted. “...except the civilians. The Holonet doesn't talk about such things. They just treat clones like statistics, like we're _shabla_ numbers or something.” Buckler had turned into quite the cynic.

“But we _are_ numbers, RC-8233,” Ka'rta teased.

Buckler wasn't in the mood. He grumbled and quietly muttered something indistinct to himself.

Ajax looked over with his trademark cold death glare. “Can't you be interviewing employees or something?” he snarled.

Ka'rta grinned. “I'll get right on that, boss. Come on, Tracker.”

“Let's go,” the sniper replied enthusiastically.

The two proceeded out the door to the tech room, and into the offices.

The first room they walked into was the office of a low-ranking tech specialist. He had access to certain systems that made him a suspect. There was a human man behind the desk, who looked like he was writing a very important message on a piece of flimsi. He had his pen between his teeth when the two commandos walked in.

“Can I help you two?” the tech asked, not even glancing up from his paper.

“Yes, sir,” Ka'rta responded. “We'd like to ask you some questions about a virus we found in various RHE-produced vehicles in the last few months.”

The man looked up at the two clones. “All right,” he began, sitting up in his chair. “But I'll have to ask you boys to take off your helmets.”

Ka'rta obliged, and made a hand signal for Tracker to do the same.

“Thank you,” the man said, gesturing for the two armored men to sit.

The commandos sat in the chairs across the desk. Ka'rta began his spiel. “Do you recognize this code?” he asked, holding up a datapad for the man to inspect.

The man took the 'pad, and looked surprised to see something. After a fraction of a second, a period of time unrecognized by most, he realized his expression and wiped the surprise and familiarity from his face, replacing it with a look of deep study. He continued studying the 'pad for a few long moments, then handed it back. What he didn't realize was that clones noticed the tiniest details and smallest looks.

“I don't recognize the specific content so much as the formatting,” he stated. “It looks like something our chief of operations wrote. He always uses this kind of white space. I guess it helps him proofread or something.”

“Thank you. This will help us immensely,” Ka'rta said. “Can you tell us where his office is?”

“Yeah. Right down the hall here, third door on the left.”

“Have a good day, sir.”

“I'm sure I will.”

The two clones rose and exited the room. Once they were in the hall, they donned their helmets. Tracker decided to say something.

“For a moment, it looked like he knew something,” the sniper extrapolated.

“I think he does,” Ka'rta replied. “The way he reacted immediately when he saw the code gave it all away. I made sure to hide a bug in the cushions of that chair, just to see what would happen.”

“And if nothing of note happens?”

“Then we don't kill that man. This is war, Tracker. Not everybody can survive. Some people have to die. And these saboteurs will pay for every clone they've killed.” In reality, Ka'rta wasn't looking for vengeance for all dead clones. He, like Ajax and Buckler, was looking for a way to get back at the Separatists for the death of their brother Ca'ad.

“I see,” Tracker confirmed. He could tell that this was a quest for personal vengeance. It must have been the anger in Ka'rta's voice.

“Well, then, we've got some more people to question.”

“Yes, sir.” Tracker looked at the door to his right. “Is one of the others listening to the bug you planted? This seems like a good time for that tech to make a call to the Seps.”

“Ajax should be listening to the feed.”

The sergeant's voice cut in. “Quiet so I can listen,” he joked. He switched to a quieter comm channel with a faint clicking noise.

Tracker glanced up. “This is the third door on the left. Right here,” he announced.

“Let's go in,” Ka'rta said, unsealing his helmet to take it off.

Ajax's voice interrupted their walk again. “Do _not_ enter that room. Repeat, do _not_ enter the room.”

Tracker stopped dead in his tracks, a moment too late. He had accidentally tripped a proximity sensor in the door. Something just behind it exploded, sending metal fragments everywhere. The sound of the explosion left his ears ringing, and Tracker aimed his Deece at the empty room. _It’s clear,_ he thought. His fear had reacted, not his mind. The sniper shook it off. Now wasn't the time to be paralyzed by fear, not like it was when you were surrounded by brothers.

“Suspect is fleeing,” Ka'rta yelled. “Can you cut him off, Ajax?”

“Moving to intercept now. Is seventy—sorry, _two-six_ okay?” Ajax almost said seventy-six, but stopped himself. Ca'ad was still dead.

“I think I'll live,” the knocked-over Tracker diagnosed. “Get that suspect.”

Ka'rta had already halved the distance between Tracker and the suspect tech when a purple-striped commando, Ajax, in a blur of motion, tackled the man mid-stride. He collapsed with a kind of “oomph” sound. Ka'rta unholstered his DC-17m blaster and pointed it at the man's face.

“Move and you're dead,” the commando prompted.

The man simply nodded in response. He wasn't a very good covert operative. He didn't know how to avoid capture or sweep for bugs. There had to be somebody else. Somebody who was leaving the factory right now, knowing the operation had been compromised.

“Buckler,” Ka'rta ordered, “I need this factory on lockdown. _Now._ ”

“On it,” Buckler replied.

A second or less later, an alarm started to go off. The lights turned red, and a voice issued from the PA system: “This facility is under lockdown. Please lock your workstation and proceed to your designated shelter immediately. Repeat, this facility is on lockdown.”

The man Ajax was pinning shifted nervously. He glanced up at the clone, obviously afraid of something. Probably his superiors. Maybe for his life. Ajax didn't care. The man would be dead in a few minutes no matter what.

“There anybody else here who…” Ajax collected his thoughts. “...is a Separatist?”

The man shook his head in a negative.

“Why don't I believe you?” Ajax took the man's arm and twisted it behind his back so he could break it. “Talk, or say hello to the hospital.”

The man stifled a whimper. “There's a director on level three who ordered me to create the nav patch. He's the only one I know of.” Ajax's grip tightened on his arm. “I swear on my life!” he sobbed.

Ajax was cold and angry today. “Ka'rta, he has nothing more to say. _Fire._ ”

The medic didn't argue. He pulled the trigger. One muted blaster shot to the head. The tech was dead.

“What the hell?” Tracker screamed. “You killed him! What if he was lying? He was just following orders. Why the hell would you _do_ that? It's _not right!_ ”

Ajax got up off the floor and adjusted his helmet. “Calm down, Tracker. He was a saboteur. He deserved to die. We aren't responsible for what happens to the saboteurs, remember?”

“Does that mean we can just kill an innocent man?” Tracker was still in shock and distress.

“This guy wasn't innocent,” Ajax snarled. “He wrote code that disabled navigation systems on more than a hundred GAR vessels.”

“But-but he was _forced!_ ” Tracker stammered.

“Doesn't matter,” Ka'rta interjected. “He wrote it, he pays the consequences. Simple.”

Ajax steered the conversation back to their mission. “Let’s go find this director. Buck, who are we looking for?”

“A guy named Joq Antilles,” Buckler replied.

Ka’rta laughed. “That’s a generic name. Let’s find him. What shelter is he assigned to?”

“Shelter A-13.”

“Let's kill that bastard.” Ajax was going to get his vengeance yet.

###  1200 hours, Shelter A-13, RHE factory, Rothana

Phi Squad, in their colorful, tank-like Katarn armor, strolled into shelter A-13 like they owned the place. All except Tracker. He kept giving furtive glances over his shoulder, expecting something to jump out at him. Ajax held up his fist in a “stop” gesture. The commandos halted and dispersed into the crowd, letting their HUDs run facial recognition on everyone they could see.

“Got him over here,” Ka’rta declared over their private helmet comm. “Director Joq Antilles. Converge slowly on my position.”

“Copy that,” replied Tracker. He began to meander over towards the commando in yellow-marked armor, when he was suddenly stopped by an employee.

“What’s going on, trooper?” the employee, a female human, asked. She sounded quite annoyed with the lockdown.

Tracker didn’t even notice the woman’s ignorance to the fine line between RCs and troopers, still so used to being a trooper. He simply responded. “There was an explosive device that went off on the ground floor. We’re currently searching for others.”

“Oh,” she said, stunned. “Thank you.” She got out of Tracker’s path.

“You’re welcome,” replied the camouflage-armored clone.

Ajax and Buckler were also wandering in the general direction of Ka’rta.

“He’s moving toward the door,” Ka’rta reported, putting one hand on his sidearm.

“Understood,” replied Ajax. This part had to be done quietly, by all involved parties. Antilles was trying to leave without raising suspicions, and the squad was trying to nab him before he realized what was going on. That part must not have been going well. He wouldn’t be trying to leave if he hadn’t suspected they were onto him. Ka'rta just hoped he wouldn’t pull a blaster.

Antilles got over to the door, and Ka’rta was right there to stop him. “Going somewhere?” asked Ka’rta, his hand still hovering over his pistol.

The director responded by dropping a holdout blaster from his sleeve into his hand and raising it to shoot.

Right about then, Ajax and Buckler came out of the crowd near the two, to help protect the civilians. Tracker wasn’t far behind. The four commandos, in perfect unison, all but drew their sidearms. “Four in armor against one with a holdout isn’t good odds. Drop the blaster and follow us,” Ajax dictated.

Antilles simply responded by revealing a thermal detonator in his belt, and pressed a button on it. The detonator began flashing red. Tracker tackled the director just in time to buffer the explosion. As the detonator exploded, Tracker was pushed up briefly by the explosion. A second later, all the civilians in the bunker started panicking in various ways, running, shoving, and yelling. None of it helped anything.

***

Once the ringing in his ears had subsided, Ajax turned on the voice projectors in his helmet. “Please remain calm,” he said. Ajax only knew one way to calm people in a combat situation. “Everybody take a few deep breaths,” he instructed. “In… out… in… out.”

The RHE employees breathed with Ajax. Everyone stood still, too focused on their breath to panic.

“Good,” Ajax said once the room had calmed. “I’ll need you all to remain here while we investigate this. Is that okay?”

The employees murmured a general consensus.

“Excellent. Buck?”

Buckler activated the door control. Ka'rta dragged the charred remains of Joq Antilles out of the room after Tracker had risen to his feet with some help from Buckler.

“You okay, _ner vod?_ ” Buckler asked his brother.

“I’m fine,” replied Tracker. “But Antilles isn’t. Do we need him to get info on who else here works for the Seps?”

“Nah. We’ll just wait for someone to try the front door and nab ‘em there.”

“And if nobody shows up?”

“We release the lockdown.”

“And if there's more?”

“Nobody gets on- or off-planet without us knowing.”

“I still feel like this plan will go wrong.”

“Always does.”

Ajax was fuming. “Cut the chatter. Or keep this comm clear. Whichever you like better.”

“Sorry, boss,” Buckler replied.

The squad walked through the corridor to the front of the building without speaking. Ajax was in one of his moods. Nobody wanted to mess with him. Ajax suddenly held up a fist in a “stop” gesture. He could hear voices coming from the corridor ahead, where the door was. It sounded like they were bickering about how to break the door. He heard a plasma torch begin to cut through the metal. Time to move in. He made the “go ahead” signal, flicking his left hand forward with a smooth wrist motion. The four commandos practically jumped into the corridor, Deeces raised.

“Step away from the door, put the plasma torch down, and come with us,” Ajax said in his most controlled tone of voice.

The man closest to them turned around, raising a blaster.

Buckler saw the blaster and reacted instinctively. Three shots, one to the head and two to the chest. The man dropped to the ground, firing once before his body hit the ground.

“He would have been useful, Buck,” Ajax admonished, pulling out his non-lethal PEP attachment and putting it on his Deece. He fired at the other man, the one with the plasma torch. The man let out a loud grunt and dropped to the floor, stunned. Ka'rta moved in with a pair of binders, which he promptly slapped on the downed man’s wrists.

“Should I wake him up?” the medic asked, pulling a syringe of stimulant out of the medpac on his belt.

“Sure,” replied Ajax. “I want to get this over with ASAP. We’ve been investigating long enough.”

Ka’rta raised the unconscious man’s wrist and pushed the contents of his syringe into the man’s bloodstream. A few seconds passed. The man opened his eyes and slowly rose to a sitting position.

He tried to move his hands. “What is this?” he asked. “GAR doesn’t operate on domestic soil. You aren’t authorized to do this to me. Release these binders and I won’t file a complaint.”

Buckler casually tossed a thermal detonator into the air and caught it. He did this several times to make his point. They wouldn’t have any qualms about killing him. “See your friend over there?” Buckler asked, pointing to the corpse on the floor. “If you don’t tell us about the rest of your Separatist comrades here at Rothana, you’ll end up like him.” Buckler took a knife from his belt and threw it into a wooden table inches from the man’s ear. “Talk.”

“Not without a lawyer,” the man sneered. “If you _are_ a legal operation, you’ll let me have a lawyer.”

Ajax made a signal in Ka’rta’s direction. The medic took one of the man’s arms out of the binders and broke it. There was a very loud “crack” as his bones cracked cleanly in half.

The man screamed in pain. “Alright, alright! I’ll talk!”

Ka’rta slapped the binders back on the man’s wrist. “Who else is involved in the sabotage?”

“There’s just four of us,” the Separatist whimpered.

“Then we already got the rest,” Ajax observed. “He’s of no more use.” Ajax made a slashing motion across his throat.

Ka’rta pulled his sidearm and placed the barrel next to the man’s temple.

“Wait,” he pleaded. “No. You can’t—”

His pleas were silenced by a single pull of Ka’rta’s trigger. He fell on his side, away from his killer.

“Well,” Ka’rta began, a note of relief in his voice. “That’s done. Do we want to call a shuttle for exfil?”

“Why not?” asked Ajax. He put two fingers to the side of his helmet. “Advisor, we have taken care of the Separatist presence on Rothana. Requesting exfil.”

“Understood, oh-eight,” the advisor replied. “Requisitioning a shuttle for you now.”

Buckler put a hand on Tracker’s shoulder. “You alright, _ner vod?_ That was a brave thing you did, jumping on that grenade.”

“Just my training,” the new sniper replied. “Nothing special.”

“Oh no,” Buckler persuaded. “I know you're wearing tough armor, but it takes guts like nothing else to jump onto a grenade like that. That was _really_ something.”

Tracker smiled underneath his helmet. “Yeah. I guess it did take some blind courage, didn't it?” It looked like he would get on well in Phi Squad. If Buckler could accept him, they all could. “Do we need to release the lockdown?” Tracker asked, suddenly remembering where they were.

“Y’know, that might not be such a bad idea,” Ajax admitted. He stretched out his arm to pat Tracker’s camouflage-painted shoulder plate. “You did a good thing back there in that safe room. People would have gotten hurt if you hadn't tackled that guy.”

“I’d like to think it was the armor,” Tracker conceded. “But thanks anyway.”

“Phi lead to Rothana Heavy Engineering security. Threat neutralized,” Ajax stated. “I repeat, threat neutralized.”

“Thank you, Phi Squad,” the RHE chief of security responded. “Releasing lockdown.” The comm made a clicking sound as they disconnected from the RHE comlink.

The advisor’s voice came floating back into their ears. “Your shuttle should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you, advisor,” Ajax replied. He led Phi Squad out the door to the main landing pad. As they approached, a Nu-class shuttle was folding its wings up to land.

“I’d call _that_ a job well done,” Buckler declared as they boarded the shuttle to depart Rothana.

“You got that right, thirty-three,” Ka'rta agreed. The door flipped up behind the four commandos and they left the planet for good.


	7. Part Four: The Mission Comes First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no rest for the weary in war. When Phi Squad are ordered to rescue a clone-hating Jedi Master from Separatist hands, their trust and faith in their generals is put to the ultimate test...

“ _You know, working with Phi Squad has been a fairly educational experience. I’ve learned how to speak some Mando’a, how to operate a DC-17m quickly, and I’ve learned countless lessons in camaraderie.  
_ _Would I leave? What kind of di’kut are you? They're my vode, my brothers. I’d give up my life for theirs. Simple as that.”_

Tracker, during a debriefing a month after joining Phi Squad

###  1615 Hours, 547 Days ABG, RMSU 7, Drongar

### 

Ajax stormed into the operating room. He didn't understand why they were here on Drongar. Republic Commandos playing infantry. This hadn't happened since Geonosis. But this time, it was worse than Geonosis. Tracker had gotten a piece of shrapnel the size of his fist wedged into his upper thigh. It was one of very few vulnerable points in Katarn armor. But Ajax wasn't angry because Tracker had gotten hurt. He was angry because this wasn't how special operations troops were supposed to be deployed.

A nurse rushed out in front of the armored commando. “You haven't been sterilized. You can't come in here. You’ll have to go back into the waiting room.” She noticed him staring at Tracker. “We'll patch him up. He’ll be okay. I promise.”

Ajax begrudgingly turned towards the door and stalked out. When he'd reached the other side, he pulled off his helmet and threw it against the wall in a fit of anger. Ka'rta and Buckler were sitting on a bench looking very worried. None of them could stand to lose another brother less than a year after Ca'ad.

“Well?” asked Ka'rta.

Ajax waved him off. “They're doing all they can. One of the nurses promised me he'd be okay. For whatever that's worth.”

“Do you want to hit the cantina?” Buckler suggested.

“Headed there now,” Ajax confirmed. “Let's move.”

The three proceeded to the cantina through the muggy swamp air. It reeked of mold and bota. Once they got to the air conditioned drinking hole, they went directly to the dark, empty table in the corner. They were the first people brave enough to sit there for months. After a couple minutes, the bartender droid came over and asked for their orders. Ajax ordered a round of _tihaar._ The fiery _Mando_ liquor was the only thing that could match Ajax’s fire-brewed rage.

Hours passed, with Phi Squad ordering round after round. Several shifts of surgeons came and went before they heard any news of Tracker. It was noon the next day when the news finally came, from a particularly tired-looking doctor who staggered over to their table.

“You're Phi Squad, aren't you?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah. Wha’ ‘bout it?” Ajax was slurring his speech.

“RC-9726. He's okay,” the doctor declared, heaving a tired sigh.

Ka'rta hadn't touched most of his drinks. He was the only one even close to sober. “Good to know. I’ll help these two sober up.”

The doctor chuckled. “I need to get some sleep. That was a tough night. Your brother gave us some scares there.”

“Thanks for the news,” Ka'rta said, slinging one of Buckler's arms over his shoulder. “You deserve forty winks.”

“Thanks,” the doctor replied. He left the cantina, presumably for his quarters.

“Come on, Ajax. We're headed for our quarters,” Ka'rta entreated.

“Oh-ay,” Ajax slurred, slumping out of his chair.

Ka’rta carried Buckler over his shoulder back to their tent. He then laid his two comrades on their beds to sleep. While they were resting, Ka’rta went over to the post-op room where Tracker was laying, in his dark red fatigues. He was awake.

“You alright?” Ka’rta asked. “That was a pretty big piece of shrapnel you got stuck in your leg.”

Tracker grinned. “I’m fine,” he stated. “The doctors here are _really_ good. They could patch up any clone.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ka’rta replied. “How do you feel? And I don’t want you to say ‘fine.’ I’ve been where you are loads of times. There’s always something that hurts. Even if it’s just your ego.” He smiled.

Tracker’s smile widened. “Well, my back is cramping from sitting in this godawful position, the IVs they’re giving me hardly count as food, and this bed is rock-hard. Other than that, life is pretty good.”

“Sounds like you really appreciate this place,” Ka’rta commented.

That made Tracker laugh out loud. “I’ve been talking to a few of the surgeons. It sounds like life here is pretty good…” he looked like he was recalling something. A second later, he remembered. “...when you aren’t dying.”

Ka’rta slapped him on the shoulder in that friendly, macho way. Tracker winced.

“So,” Tracker began, looking around the room, “where’s Ajax and Buckler?”

Ka’rta chuckled knowingly. “They got a little drunk last night worrying about you. They’re sleeping it off in one of the quarters.”

“I see,” said Tracker. “You going to get some sleep with them?”

“Nah,” Ka’rta replied. “I slept a bit last night.”

The two chatted away the day, talking about everything from the Jedi to how the clones were effectively slaves. Sooner than either of them knew, a nurse came into the room.

“Sir,” she said, directing it to Ka’rta, “Visiting hours are over. You’ll have to come back in the morning.”

Ka’rta patted Tracker’s shoulder. “ _K’oyacyi, ner vod._ ” Stay alive, brother.

“You too, Ka’rta,” he said. “I’ll still be here in the morning. Alive, too.”

The two commandos laughed as the medic put on his helmet and walked out of the room.

***

Ajax woke with a splintering headache in the middle of the night. He looked over to see Ka’rta sleeping in a chair next to Buckler. Something was off that he couldn’t quite place. Suddenly, he realized what was missing—Tracker. It took him a second to remember what had happened the day before. They had been caught in an explosion, and Tracker had been hit by a piece of shrapnel in the leg. He couldn’t remember anything after getting kicked out of the operating room, though. That was a bit odd. Losing almost an entire day’s worth of memory? Waking up with a splitting headache? It all pointed to one thing: he’d gotten drunk the day before. He looked down at his chrono. It had been two days ago. _Fierfek. What if Tracker’s dead? Two brothers in less than a year. This won’t work for me. I can’t handle that._ He looked over at his DC-15s pistol. He seriously considered grabbing it and pointing it at his head for a long moment. The sidearm seemed to call out to him. “Take me. Let your sorrows be gone.”

Then sleep took him back into its sweet, forgetful bliss.

***

It was several hours until Buckler rose as the sun became visible over the horizon. _Where…?_ he thought. Then he remembered. _Rimsoo 7. Drongar. Bota. Tracker! The surgeons were patching him up. I should go and see him._

Buckler got up and walked over to the door. He tapped the control, and the door slid away. He winced at the loudness of the door. Even the slightest sound seemed to split his head right down the middle. He walked over toward the OR, and strode into the postoperative room. Tracker was sleeping. Buckler sat in the chair next to his bed and waited. It creaked as he shifted around and his head nearly split in half from his hangover. He couldn't wait long without falling asleep, though. It would be another hour before Phi Squad got back together.

After that hour, Ajax walked into post-op, followed closely by Ka'rta. Ajax had been told the good news, judging from his attitude. Tracker was reading with Buckler sleeping peacefully next to him. He pressed a finger to his lips, pointing to Buckler. Ajax softly shook Buckler's arm. He jolted violently.

“It's just me, Ajax,” the sergeant consoled.

“Morning,” Buckler mumbled. “Or is it?” He glanced at his chrono. “Yep. Morning.” He seemed much more awake now. “What's up?”

Tracker answered. “I’m quite fine, and we're all here to celebrate my discharge from the hospital.”

“Yep, pretty much sums it up,” confirmed Ka'rta.

Soon after that declaration, a nurse walked in and checked the datapad at the foot of Tracker’s bed. She checked his vitals on a nearby monitor, and said, “You’re free to go.”

Tracker sat up straighter and looked around for something. “My armor—where is it?”

The nurse pointed to a stack of camouflage-painted armor plates in a nearby corner.

“Thanks,” Tracker returned.

The woman nodded and proceeded to the next patient. Tracker got up off his bed and staggered a bit, unsteadily. He’d been sitting in that bed too long. The commando proceeded to the corner where his armor was, to put it back on. His squad watched as he examined the upper part of his thigh plate. There was a dark red bloodstain there. “Tut, tut, tut. What _am_ I going to do about this stain?” he wondered. “Makes it look like someone died.”

“Then keep it,” Buckler suggested. “Bloodstains always look fierce.”

“He’s right, you know,” Ka'rta agreed. “Don't do anything to it. Might scratch the paint on your armor.”

Tracker laughed aloud. “Okay, you convinced me. I’ll keep the stain.” He quickly changed into his black bodysuit and began snapping on the armor plates. Another nurse walked in and came towards Phi Squad.

“Admiral Bleyd wants you in his office right away, Phi Squad,” she said, looking a bit flustered.

Ajax looked bewildered. “What for? We weren't supposed to be leaving until next week.”

“Change of plans, apparently,” the nurse looked as though she was debating whether or not to tell them something. “The Admiral’s in a bit of a mood right now. I wouldn't keep him waiting.”

“Well, then, let's move!” commanded Ajax. Phi Squad followed him outside, Tracker still working on getting his upper arm and shoulder plates attached. They proceeded to the RMSU 7 command center, right next to the landing pad. Several transports, presumably full of wounded, were descending into the force-dome. An alarm blared over the loudspeakers, announcing the arrival of new casualties. All doctors were ordered to the OR. The crowd of people headed towards the OR didn’t stop Phi from getting to the Admiral’s office, though. The four commandos proceeded through the door to the office and sat in four empty chairs, facing the Admiral. He was on the comm, it looked. Bleyd held up one finger for silence. Ajax nodded in confirmation. It was several minutes before Bleyd hung up and gave Phi their next mission.

“You saw the transports come in, I take it?” he asked, gruffly.

“Yes,” Ajax confirmed.

“Then you’ll know I don’t have much time.” He paused, creating a dramatic effect. “That comm I just ended was with the Jedi Council. They want to send you to Felucia.”

“Felucia?” Ka’rta asked. “What’s on _Felucia_ that they need RCs for?”

“Pong Krell,” Bleyd replied. “General Pong Krell is trapped at a Separatist installation there, and they need someone to retrieve him.”

“Krell?” Buckler wondered. “Isn’t he the one that hates his troops? The one that doesn’t even see clones as human? The one with casualty rates higher than the debt ceiling?”

“That’s the one,” Bleyd responded, handing Ajax a datapad. “Here’s the full brief. Your shuttle is outside on the landing pad. Now, excuse me while I go do my job as a surgeon.”

Bleyd strode out of the office, and Phi Squad got out of their seats to follow him. Ajax led the clones to a Nu-class shuttle just outside, on the landing pad. As soon as the four had boarded, the wings folded down into flight configuration and the shuttle took off.

###  0200 Hours, 550 days ABG, Nu-class shuttle orbiting Felucia

“Approaching drop zone,” the shuttle pilot announced. “Your chutes secure?”

“Securing them now,” returned Ajax. He went over to Tracker and made sure his parachute was packed and patted his back twice. Tracker then did the same for him. Ka’rta and Buckler were performing the same procedure.

“We’re over the drop zone,” the pilot shouted. “Get ready to jump!” He pressed a button on his console and the door fell open. The red cabin lights changed to green, and Ajax made a circular “go” gesture. Buckler jumped first, after a running start, followed by Ka’rta, then Tracker. Ajax jumped when he’d made sure the other three were clear. The bioluminescent plants and fungi on the surface began resolving into individual shapes and colors, each plant a beautiful example of evolution. The planet was astonishingly, _overwhelmingly_ beautiful. Even so, Ka’rta stopped admiring the colors when Ajax’s voice came into his helmet.

“Pull chutes! Now!” the sergeant said. All three obeyed, opening their parachutes to buffer the landing. The four hit the ground within twenty meters of each other. They formed up around Ajax. The sergeant was surprised how well the low-opening drop had kept them close together.

“So, boss, where we going?” wondered Tracker. He had adopted most of the squad's verbal expressions by now, like “boss,” “ _ner vod,_ ” and several other less savory Mando’a expressions.

Ajax checked his compass. “We’re headed at a bearing of forty-three degrees. Should be about…” he pulled up a map on his HUD. “...fifty klicks. Let’s go!”

This was yet another quiet infiltration. _At least we’re fighting droids again,_ Buckler thought. _That stuff back on Rothana was heavy. Oh, well. This time I get to use explosives. Drongar was fun. No limits except “don’t harm the bota.”_ He laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny, Buck?” asked Tracker.

“Oh, just thinking about the usual,” was Buckler’s reply.

“So, explosions?” inferred Ka’rta.

“Yep,” confirmed Buckler. “Drongar was really fun because there were no limits.”

Ajax snorted. “As long as you didn’t hurt the poor, helpless bota.”

“Is a stupid _plant_ the only thing we’re fighting for on Drongar?” wondered Tracker.

“According to the field commander there, yes,” answered Ajax. He was starting to get jittery, like they all did before a mission. Especially one like this, where they were going to have to fight wave after wave of tin cans just to get Krell out alive. Ajax still didn’t know how he felt about this mission. Saving a Jedi who openly hated clones wasn’t the most ideal situation. But _somebody_ had to do it, since the “A-teams” Delta and Omega were out on missions. His mind was positively racing. _Oh well, maybe Krell’ll learn some respect for clones._ _Still, is he not worth a Jedi? Why send the RCs if you can have Jedi? Fierfek. This problem must be a whole lot_ shabla _worse than we thought. Or they already_ did _send a Jedi…_ Ajax didn’t want to think about that possibility. A mission that was too hard for a Jedi was way too much for clones… unless this was a test of some kind. _No, it can’t be a test. Why would the Jedi Council want to test a commando squad with a CT transfer? Is Tracker the reason we were assigned this mission? Is it because we’re the only squad with a CT transfer that isn’t_ all _white jobs?_ That didn’t seem likely. All the same, this was an odd assignment. Maybe there was no conspiracy. Or maybe… Ajax nearly ran straight into a large, glowing, blue, pitcher-shaped plant. The plant didn't hit him, but its beauty sure did.

“You okay there, boss?” wondered Buckler.

“Hmm?” Ajax returned. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine, just catching up on a little thinking. And noticing how _di’kutla_ beautiful this planet is.”

“Any new conspiracies we should know about?” Ka’rta joked. He knew Ajax could be a conspiracy theorist, though he normally wasn't.

“Yes, actually,” answered the sergeant.

The squad responded with noises of disbelief.

“Hang on, _what?_ ” said Ka’rta.

“There _is_ a kind of a conspiracy that I’ve discovered,” Ajax repeated. “Doesn’t it seem a little odd that the Jedi Council sent _us_ and not one of their own for this mission?”

Buckler made a thinking grunt. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That _is_ kinda strange.”

Tracker and Ka’rta murmured in agreement.

“Especially considering Krell hates clones,” Ka'rta added.

Tracker looked at the distance indicator at the bottom of his HUD. “Looks like we're about 15 meters out. Should we set up a recon post?”

Ajax checked his map. “There's a better vantage point ten meters north. Uploading to your HUDs.”

The arrow changed directions on the HUD navigation icon. The distance updated as well.

“Received coordinates, boss,” Ka'rta reported. He started walking towards the indicated position, Deece raised, just to be safe. “All clear,” he reported.

The other three then followed Ka'rta. Once they got to the observation point, they set up prone with sniper attachments. It didn’t look good. Several dwarf spider droids stood watch outside the entrance to the square-shaped military base. It looked like a whole platoon’s worth of B1s inside. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Wonder where they’re keeping the General in there,” Ajax wondered. “Not many places to hide a Jedi.”

“I don’t know,” replied Ka’rta. “This might not be the right installation. Or they moved him to a ship in orbit.”

“Or he escaped,” said Tracker. He’d learned to be quite the optimist from Ka’rta.

“Then we’ll need to figure out which,” Buckler admitted. “Those droids might give us a hint what happened to him. Looks like they're on the move.”

“So Krell escaped?” extrapolated Tracker.

“Apparently,” replied Ajax. “Look. Our situation’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

“Fierfek,” Buckler swore. “Is that a squad of droids coming our way?”

“Yes, it is,” Ka'rta confirmed. “Oh, boy. The commander saw us.”

He was right. The B1 in front, the one with yellow markings, was staring directly at the four commandos. Soon all the droids appeared to look at the squad in unison. They raised their blasters and aimed.

“Get down this slope!” Ajax yelled. The intensity of the command made the other clones flinch. Nonetheless, each obeyed, with a little added vigor.

Just as the clones were shuffling out of view, the first volley of blaster bolts came whizzing past their ears.

“That was _way_ too close,” Buckler observed. He raised his blaster, ready to scrap some droids.

“There’s a lot of droids out there,” Tracker mentioned. “I’m surprised you aren't opting for explosives, Buck.”

“Going for the purist approach this time,” Buckler joked. Tracker swore he saw Buckler shift the thermal detonators in his belt, though.

The first droid showed its faceplate from around a large nearby blue flower. Four blue blaster bolts hit it squarely in the chest at precisely the same instant.

“Next one’s behind!” Ka'rta reported. He whipped around and fired once.

“Let's retreat back into the forest,” Ajax suggested. He led the squad back, away from the Separatist base. Maybe they could regroup and come back with a plan later. He stopped when he saw the barrel of an E-5 blaster pointed at him, held by a T- series tactical droid.

It cackled metallically . “Ha...Ha...Ha. Predictable Republic dogs. I calculated a 92.6% chance that you would attempt to retreat and regroup. Surrender. I have you surrounded.”

Buckler shifted something in his belt. Ajax took it as a signal.

“Okay, okay,” the sergeant stalled. “Look. I’m putting down my gun, see?” He stopped talking to switch comms to the squad channel. “Buck, I want you to get whatever you're planning ready when I lay down my Deece. Okay?”

“On your signal, boss,” Buckler replied.

Ajax crouched to lower his blaster to the ground. Buckler tapped a control on his gauntlet.

Barely a second later, all the droids the squad could see went into a rigid T pose and fell backwards. The tactical droid stood unaffected.

“Error...Error...Results do not compute. Contacting headquarters…” the droid’s metallic voice and its transmission were interrupted by Ajax tearing off the droid’s head. The clone picked up his blaster.

“Nobody dictates terms to _me,_ ” he declared in a chilling tone. “Especially not a stinking piece of _shabla_ rusty _scrap metal._ ” He shot the headless droid’s body for good measure.

“What _was_ that, Buck?” asked Ka'rta in surprise.

Buckler shrugged. “It was an interference signal. I messed with their neural nets.”

“I don't think you'll be able to use it after this battle,” Tracker predicted. “Unless the Seps don't find out about it.”

“Well then, we’ll try not to alert them to this weapon,” Buckler confirmed.

“We need to move out. It isn't safe here,” Ajax reminded the squad.

The squad moved back away from the Separatist base. They had their recce intel, and were ready to make a plan.

“How are we going to get past those spider droids?” wondered Tracker.

“I have an idea about that,” Buckler replied. He started juggling three EC grenades.

“You expect that to work?” Ajax asked.

“With anti-armor support from the hill, yes, I do.”

“That might work,” Ka'rta conceded. “But what about the droids on the battlements?”

“I’ll take care of them,” Tracker volunteered. “You three just focus on the droids at the entrance.”

“That takes care of infil, but what about exfil?” Ajax wondered. “And what if Krell isn't here?”

“I’ll do a quick slice when we get in,” Buckler said. “That’ll take care of learning Krell’s position. As for exfil, I have a few ideas…” he displayed the anti-armor attachment for his Deece. “This will take care of clusters of droids, and we can place a few charges to take out various parts of the base.”

“You really love explosions, don’t you?” observed Tracker.

“You catch on quickly,” Buckler praised. “I also enjoy a good slice, but that’s beside the point.”

“Cut it,” Ajax said threateningly. “If we’re pulling this off, we need focus.”

Ka’rta put a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder. “We’ll do this. We are going to rescue Krell as if our lives depend on it.”

“They do,” Buckler pointed out.

“You’re right,” Ka’rta acknowledged. “We’re a team. The individual is the same as the whole. We will get through those droids like they aren’t even there. Who’s with me?” He put his hand in the center of the circle of commandos.

It was quickly joined by Buckler’s, then Tracker’s, and shortly, Ajax’s.

“We’re a team, like you said,” Tracker repeated. “We’re doing this together or not at all.”

“It’s settled, then,” Ajax remarked. “Now we just have to solidify the plan.”

The squad spent a half hour discussing their plans, refining and perfecting the strategy, preparing contingency plans, and, primarily, psyching themselves up. This would be a long, hard, grueling battle.

“Tracker,” Ajax began, “set up shop and wait for my signal.”

“Copy that, boss,” the sniper replied. He jogged off in the direction of the ridge they had done recon from.

“Buckler, you get those dets ready.”

“Consider it done, Aje.”

“Excellent. Ka’rta…?”

“Ready for close quarters.”

The three started moving towards the entrance to the Separatist base.

###  0400 Hours, Separatist Base, Felucia

They were taking cover behind a yellow, bush-like plant, ten meters from the base’s door.

“I’m in position,” Tracker reported from the overlook.

“Wait for the signal,” Ajax commanded. “You’ve got eyes on one of the droids on top of the wall?”

“Affirmative, sarge. Got one lined up in the crosshairs.”

“Let’s move. Everybody ready?”

“Ready here,” Ka'rta reported.

“Go ahead, boss,” Buckler stated.

“Go, go, go!” Ajax replied.

Tracker was the first to respond, pulling the trigger on his sniper attachment once, dropping the droid in his sights nearly instantly.

Buckler pitched an EC grenade toward the dwarf spider droids at the entrance. It went off, rendering the droids essentially unconscious.

Ka'rta was next, charging the door to make sure the spider droids didn’t recover. He ran up to the downed droids quite quickly, then shot them in the eyes.

By that time, Tracker had lined up and taken another shot.

“Hey boss,” Buckler wondered, “are we going in the quiet way or the noisy way?”

“I bet they know we’re here,” Ajax replied. “Get ready for a door breach. Tracker, keep doing your thing.”

“Copy, boss,” Tracker replied. “I love this assignment.”

Ajax and Buckler emerged from the bush and started walking towards the door. The slicer prepared a breach charge in his hand. Ka'rta was crouched next to the door, ready to toss a grenade in the moment the door flew open. Buckler walked up to the door, armed the charge, and took cover on the side of the door opposite Ka'rta and Ajax. The charge blew. Ka'rta threw his grenade into the opening, and as soon as it exploded, got up, and the three charged into the room, Deeces blazing. Within seconds, more than a dozen droid carcasses littered the floor. More droids poured out of the smoke, blasters firing. Despite the seemingly endless nature of their enemy, the three commandos pressed on. They were determined to get past all the droids and achieve their objective. They were going to rescue Pong Krell.

“I just love that smell,” Buckler stated.

“Which?” Ka'rta snorted. “Blaster fire, explosives, or droid guts?”

“All of ‘em together,” the slicer replied.

“Focus,” Ajax snapped.

The other two quieted.

“I’ve got eyes on about four SBDs headed your way,” Tracker reported.

“ _Osik._ ” It seemed like all three said it at once. The curse, an unpolite term for excrement, was very useful in this moment.

“Prep anti-armor,” Ajax commanded.

Buckler was already switching to the grenade launcher attachment. Ka’rta quickly followed suit.

Ajax threw an EC grenade. The disruption field hit the two B2s that were in front. They were stunned for a few seconds. In that time, the two clones with anti-armor fired, taking out the two battle droids. The other two droids began firing at the squad. One shot a missile.

“Get clear!” Ajax yelled.

Ka’rta and Buckler didn’t need to be told twice. They ducked out of the way of the missile. Buckler even fired a shot from his anti-armor as he jumped to the left. The precise timing of the maneuver took down the third droid. He looked at the ammo indicator on his weapon. Buckler had one anti-armor round left. Best to make it count later, when they’d actually need it. He switched weapon modes back to the blaster attachment.

“I’m down to one AA round,” Buckler reported. “Anybody got one to spare?” He almost shouted the question.

“No, but I’ve got a couple EC dets,” Ka'rta replied.

“Then use one,” Ajax said, more than a hint of urgency in his voice as he dived out of the way of another missile.

Ka'rta did as he was ordered, stunning the droid. Buckler opened fire, Ajax did the same, and a few sniper rounds hit the droid from Tracker’s position.

“Nice to see you’re looking out for us,” Ka'rta told Tracker.

“I do what I can,” the sniper grinned back.

“Buckler, can you start on that slice?” Ajax asked. “We need to know Krell’s location.”

“On it, boss,” Buckler responded, moving towards a computer console around three meters away. “Cover me.”

A droid fired in the slicer’s direction. Ajax fired back. The droid let out a metallic scream. More blaster fire. One shot even hit Buckler.

“Armor integrity’s down,” Buckler reported. “Can you keep them off my back? This kind of thing takes time.”

Ka'rta was firing wildly into a veritable sea of droids. “It’s a lot easier to take them out with three people,” he returned.

“I’m doing my best to not give my position away,” Tracker nearly apologized.

“Almost done here…” Buckler responded. “Got it. Krell’s being held here. West side, cell A1-138.” He turned and lobbed a grenade into the pack of “metal vermin.”

“They just keep coming!” exclaimed Ka'rta.

“Press on, squad,” Ajax demanded. “We have to get the General out of here.”

Ajax began clearing a path through the sea of droids with grenades and his blaster. The gap was just enough to get through without being pushed around by the battle droids. As soon as as Buckler was through, the gap closed behind the three.

“This is what my nightmares look like,” Ka'rta informed. “I don’t like all these droids.”

Ajax offered an exit solution. “We can blow the wall, remember? That way we won’t have to fight our way back through.”

“I was planning on it, boss,” Buckler said. “Prepped the specialized explosives. They’ll be deployed at the weak points in no time when you give the order.”

“Good man,” Ajax said. “I can see the detention area. We’re nearly there.”

“Great,” replied Ka'rta, throwing a left hook with the knife in his knuckle plate. It took a droid’s head clean off. He then proceeded to shoot a few more droids with his Deece.

“Buck, get up here and slice the door,” Ajax ordered.

Buckler proceeded to the indicated door. It would lead to the prison block when opened. The slicer tapped a few controls on the door panel, and the squad was in. There were four droids patrolling the corridor. They were quickly dispatched by Buckler and Ajax, who entered simultaneously.

“Spread out to find that cell,” the sergeant directed.

The three spread out along the two lengths of the corridor, checking the door numbers.

“Got the cell over here,” Ka'rta called. “Buck, door slice?”

“Slicer special, coming right up,” Buckler replied. He went over to the door and messed with the controls for a few seconds. He ended up lifting the panel and ripping a bundle of wires out of the control. The door flew open, and an angry-looking Jedi swooped out and kicked Buckler in the faceplate. From the four arms and the mean Besalisk face, Ka'rta could tell it was Krell.

“Oh. A clone,” Krell said, realizing it wasn't a droid that had opened the door. He reached out an arm to the commando he’d kicked to the floor. Buckler didn't take it, getting up on his own.

Ka'rta was glad for private helmet comms. “Talk about a bad-tempered Jedi. I'm not sure I like this guy.”

“So,” Krell wondered, retracting his arm, “where are my lightsabers?”

“We didn't retrieve them,” Ajax reported, slipping into sergeant mode yet again.

“Well, then, we have to find them,” Krell commanded.

“I believe I saw a note in the prisoner file saying the weapons were in central command here,” Buckler reported.

“Let’s go!” Krell exclaimed, rushing out the door into the frenzy of droids outside.

“What in blazes is the General thinking?” Ajax wondered. “Cover him, and make sure he stays alive.”

“You got it, boss,” Ka'rta returned, firing at a droid to Krell’s left. However, the General seemed able to fend for himself even without a lightsaber. What they said about Jedi and the Force seemed more true now than ever before to Phi Squad.

The squad kept plowing through the droids to the command post in the center of the base, the Jedi still leading them.

“What in blazes is Krell doing?” Tracker wondered. “No lightsaber? Never seen a Jedi do _that_ before.”

“He’s retrieving his weapons,” Ajax answered the sniper. “We could have done it for him. There’s too many droids out here.”

Krell appeared to stop to meditate. Several droids closed in on him.

Ajax shot the droids closest to the Jedi. “General, it’s not safe. We can’t stop now.”

The reason for Krell’s apparent meditation suddenly became clear. The Jedi’s two lightsabers flew into his hands and the four green and blue blades flared into life. However, he did not start slicing droids with them at first. Instead, he threatened Ajax with one of his blades.

“No _clone_ questions _me,_ RC-3608,” the general spat.

“Yes, _sir,_ ” replied the sergeant with utter calm.

Krell turned and started slashing row after row of droids. Soon there weren't any left in shooting range.

“Looks like we won’t be needing that exit strategy after all, Buck,” Ajax commented into the squad’s comms.

“Do we _have_ to get this guy out alive?” Ka'rta wondered. “Nobody threatens my brother and lives. We can shoot him now and say the droids were too powerful, or that we couldn't find him, or that Palps called Order 66…” the medic was quickly silenced by a knowing look from Krell.

“I can sense your hate,” the Jedi stated, calm yet ferocious. He wasn't able to hear the conversation, but Jedi didn't need to hear when they could sense emotions. “You couldn't kill me if you tried. You’re too obvious. On the other hand, I can kill you and nobody would think anything of it. You're _disposable._ ”

Ajax clenched his fist and made to swing a punch. He suddenly found it impossible to even move. Krell had locked him in place with the Force. Ajax continued struggling until the Jedi let up.

“Enough already!” Buckler shouted. He recognized frayed nerves from a month’s straight deployment. “We can keep hating each other, and let the droids kill us, or put our feelings aside and complete the mission.” He reached over to put a hand on Ka'rta's shoulder. “Remember what Bralor always said. The mission has to come first.”

“Good advice!” praised the Jedi. “I like a man who knows how to put his emotions aside.”

“Fine,” grumbled Ka'rta. “Just as long as we never meet again,” he muttered under his breath.

“Track, can we go out the front door?” Ajax wondered.

“That looks like a bad idea from here, boss,” the sniper answered. “I’ve got eyes on two columns of droids ready to spring at whatever comes their way. Blowing the entire base seems like our best option.”

“Buck?” the sergeant asked. The one word encompassed an entire request.

“Drones programmed and ready to cripple this installation,” Buckler replied. “On your mark.”

“Let’s move!” Ajax commanded. “Get ready to blow this joint.”

Buckler threw a dozen or so 2-centimeter diameter spheres into the air. They flew to the base’s power generator, filled with enough explosives to blow the entire base sky high.

“Explosives set and ready to detonate,” Buckler stated. “All yours, Aje.”

“Have you got something to blow a hole in the wall so we can get out?” wondered Ka'rta.

“Got some explosives right here,” Buckler responded, holding up a breach charge.

“Blow a hole here,” Ajax instructed, uploading the location to Buckler’s HUD.

“This will take a minute,” informed the demolitions expert. “Cover me, squad.”

Buckler set the charge against the wall in the indicated location. It took him ten seconds to properly prime the detonator.

In that same time, the droids blew open the front door to the installation. It was clear they wouldn't wait for the clones to exit that way.

“How much longer with that hole, Buck?” Ajax asked.

“Just a few more seconds,” was the answer. A couple seconds later, Buckler said, “Press the button.”

“Get clear!” Ajax yelled, pulling out the detonator and pushing the button.

The wall in front of Phi Squad exploded in a flurry of colors and left a cloud of smoke and a hole behind. Krell was the first to exit as the first droids walked through the door and began firing.

Ajax followed the Jedi, then Buckler jumped through. Ka'rta shot some of the droids visible through the smoke, then proceeded backwards through the hole in the wall.

“Let’s get out of here,” directed Ajax. “Buckler, get the special surprise ready to go ‘boom.’”

Buckler laughed. “Copy that, boss.” He pulled a detonator from his belt and pushed the button. “Take cover!”

The three commandos and their General hit the deck at the same moment the explosives detonated, engulfing the entire Separatist base. Fire, smoke, and shrapnel permeated the air for several long seconds.

“That blew up real good,” Tracker commented.

“All right, fun’s over,” said Ajax, laughing. “Get your _shebs_ down here and help us clear out.”

“I’ll do that as soon as the smoke clears,” the sniper replied. “You should have seen it, Buck. It was a magnificent piece of art.”

Buckler laughed. “Ha. I bet. That was enough explosives to take the entire installation and send it to the county over.”

“Yeah, it pretty well demolished that base. I can see that the back wall is fairly well ruined, the sides reduced to rubble, and the reactor?” Tracker chuckled. “Let's just say it’s basically molten slag by now.”

“Would you say it’s safe to move yet?” Ajax asked.

“Negative,” the sniper replied. “There’s still tons of shrapnel coming down. I would _not_ advise moving.”

Krell got up, unaware of the conversation the clones were having. He created a Force bubble to repel falling shrapnel.

“Let’s move!” the Jedi’s voice boomed. “I won’t keep this Force bubble up much longer.”

“Seems like the best option,” Ka'rta said. He got up and started following the General.

“I’m following,” stated Buckler. He got up and followed the other two.

Ajax hopped up and got onto the bandwagon as well. He didn’t want to be left behind. After all, that was ARC Rule Number One: _never_ leave a man behind. Ajax also liked Delta Squad’s Rule One: kill them before they kill you. Both seemed quite applicable in their current situation, given Krell had the highest casualty rate in the entire GAR. Ajax would have no qualms about pulling the trigger on a blaster aimed at Krell.

After walking about thirty meters, the four had cleared the debris field from the gargantuan blast. Krell let down the Force bubble. He was clearly exhausted from the effort, if you looked at his face. His voice was still as powerful as ever.

“Find a suitable place to set up camp,” his booming voice commanded.

“Yes, _sir,_ ” Ajax replied. It was obviously vicious mockery to his brothers. Ajax _never_ called anyone “sir.” The General didn’t see it that way. It was probably for the best.

“Hey, Tracker?” Ajax called. “Come down here and meet us. We're leaving to set up camp.”

“On my way, boss,” the sniper replied.

It took a few minutes for Tracker to get down to the rest of his squad.

“What are you _waiting_ for?” Krell boomed. “RC-3608, I shouldn't have to remind you the importance of setting up a camp.”

“We’re waiting for our fourth man to get here,” Ajax said, all but adding a contemptuous “ _General._ ”

“I don’t like your tone, trooper,” the Jedi sneered.

“Sorry, _sir._ ”

By now, Tracker had arrived and was watching the entire scene unfold, quite amused.

“RC-9726 reporting in, sir!” Tracker could probably quote the entire regulation manual and all 150 contingency orders in the same time it took Buckler to wake up and put his armor on. It seemed like he had slipped back into the “white job” adherence to regs and obedience. Or he was mocking poor General Krell. Ajax secretly hoped the latter.

“Let’s move out!” Ajax yelled. “We’ve got to set up camp, and soon.”

“Already spotted a good place, boss,” Tracker chimed in. “About three klicks north of the base.”

“Let’s head there, then,” Ajax said. He began leading the way to the location Tracker had uploaded to the squad’s HUDs. Krell followed the sergeant.

“So, RC-3608, what's your plan to get offplanet?” the general wondered.

“HQ set up a rendezvous at 1200 hours tomorrow.”

“That’s a lot of time,” Ka'rta commented. “What will we do until the RV?”

“The RV point is some distance away,” Ajax replied. “We’ll walk there after resting a bit.”

Phi Squad walked to their selected campsite in outward silence. Ka'rta and Buckler were having a conversation on a private channel, however; it was a conversation hidden from Krell’s ears.

“I _really_ don’t like this Jedi,” Ka'rta confessed. “He talks to us like we’re subordinates. He’s not treating us like equals the way Jusik does. Even kriffing _Zey_ treats us more like people.”

“Yeah,” Buckler responded. “I can see that. I also feel like we’re independent enough to brush him off. He’s not our boss. Nobody told us to submit to him. We still follow Zey’s orders. Jusik’s, too.”

Ka'rta snorted. “He’s a general. A Jedi. Our superior officer. We _have_ to follow his lead.”

“I suppose so, but if we see his orders as reckless or endangering, we won’t be court-martialed if we disobey them. We weren't engineered to be blindly loyal to Jedi. Not like the white jobs. We're Republic Commandos. We think for ourselves. We are an independent _squad._ Nothing and nobody can change that. Not even a Jedi who threatens to kill us if we disobey him. We just aren’t under his command. We're independent. We make our own decisions, give our own orders.”

“You’re _very_ persuasive sometimes.”

Buckler chuckled. “Only when I want to be.”

The four commandos and Besalisk Jedi arrived at the designated location.

“Alright, boys,” Ajax commanded, “get those tents up. Tracker and Buckler will take the first watch. Ka'rta and I will relieve you in… four hours. Hop to it!”

The four clones quickly got two ultralight dome tents out of their survival packs and set each up in about three minutes. In six minutes, there were places for two clones and a Jedi to sleep. Tracker and Buckler set up a lantern and foldable stools to sit on. They kept their Deeces on them, ready to grab the weapons and fire at a moment’s notice.

Krell seemed to be inspecting the tent that had been set up for him.

“Problem, sir?” Tracker asked, out of reflex.

“No, just inspecting my tent,” Krell replied. “Assessing the space I’ll have to sleep.”

“Gotcha,” the sniper confirmed.

Krell walked into his tent.

Buckler sighed, knowing the Jedi wasn’t going to emerge until the morning. He appeared to fumble around in his belt for something. He pulled out a small piece of plastoid.

“Is that—?” Tracker wondered.

“Ca'ad's armor tally,” Buckler confirmed. “I keep it with me just so I can take comfort in the fact that I’ll never forget him. That keeps him alive. I took his helmet off and brought it back to Triple Zero, too. We were wearing beskar'gam that mission. His Katarn armor was still on Coruscant. That's where I got the tally.”

Tracker was utterly silent, intent on hearing the stories Buckler had to tell.

“Sometimes I try to talk to him. It gives me comfort to tell him about all the things we’ve done, all the struggles we have… I also tell him about you, Track. He’d like you. You’re a lot like him in many ways… better in others.” Buckler smiled. “There’re a lot of things the two of you would talk about, like the thrill of a clean shot, a nice game of Dejarik…” Buckler nearly started to cry thinking about the last game of holochess he’d played with Ca'ad. “He always was the best at holochess in the squad.” It was still painful to think about the stupid reason for his brother’s death. “He messed up his arm real bad on Dantooine. Started taking bacta for the pain. He got himself addicted to the stuff, and that’s what killed him. His insensitivity to that miracle medicine _shabla_ killed him.” Maybe it was a bad idea to start talking about this. Buckler was now in more of a mood than he had been for months. His focus was lapsing, tears were streaming down his face, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Tracker consoled. He could hear the muted sobs over their helmet comm. “The more you remember him, the more he’s still alive. You don’t have to remember the end. Just remember his life.”

“You don’t understand. I could have made him stop those injections. I killed him. I killed my own _shabla_ brother, two-six. It’s all _my fault_.”

Tracker practically snarled. “He would have found a way to keep doing the injections behind your back. There was nothing you did that killed him. You are _not_ responsible, you hear?” He had taken a bit of a confrontational tone. He had his own brothers’ deaths to deal with.

Tracker began speaking about that experience. “When I was in training to become a commando last year, I lost an _entire squad._ We were practicing anti-terror ops, and I gave the squad incorrect information on where the bomb was.”

Buckler stopped crying. “Is _that_ why you were assigned to us? Because you lost your squad?”

“I guess so,” Tracker answered. “They were guys I knew from my old division. It was just a _stupid mistake._ _My_ mistake.” The sniper paused. “After the accident, Kal’buir — papa Kal — came up to me and said the exercise was all just to see how well we would hold up given inaccurate intel. He made sure I didn’t think the squad’s deaths were my fault. I didn’t expect the intel to be wrong. I led my squad into a false sense of security, and that _killed_ them. I suppose I learned to _never_ trust intelligence.”

“ _Osik,_ ” swore Buckler. “I _never_ suspected something so traumatic had happened to you. You’ve always been so cheery and optimistic… after you stopped quoting the reg manual, that is.”

Tracker laughed. The two talked and joked for the rest of their watch.

###  0900 Hours, Phi Squad campsite, Felucia

“A white job walks into a cantina and asks the barman, ‘Hey, have you seen my brother?’” Buckler joked. “‘I dunno,’ says the barman, ‘What does he look like?’”

Tracker was rolling on the jungle floor with laughter. “We all look the _same!_ God, that’s _funny!_ ”

Buckler happened to glance down at his chrono. “It’s about time for Ajax and Ka'rta to come relieve us.”

“Should we wake them?” wondered Tracker.

“Don’t,” advised Ajax. Tracker and Buckler both spun around at the sound of their leader’s voice.

“You ready for morning watch?” Buckler asked the sergeant. “Looks like it’ll be a pretty sunrise.”

Ka’rta smacked his lips, in that too-early-in-the-morning way of his. “Don’t remind me,” he said. “Four hours is such a short time to sleep.”

“Whiner,” Buckler teased.

“It’s not _my_ fault we were woken up by you two laughing your _shebse_ off in the middle of the night.”

“Sorry about that,” Tracker apologized.

“We had our buckets on,” said Buckler, a bit incredulous. “How did you hear us?”

“You were laughing so _shabla_ loud the sound was coming through our buckets and into the tent,” Ajax explained. “Had to put the _di’kutla_ thing on to turn the comm off.”

“Sorry about that, boss,” Buckler replied. “You could have complained.”

“Nah,” the sergeant replied. “Nobody likes a whiner, remember?”

“Okay, you got me there.”

Buckler and Tracker crawled into the small tent built for two.

“Sweet dreams,” Buckler told the other.

“Same to you,” Tracker replied. “Don’t let the ghosts of the past keep you up.”

The two detached their survival packs and took off their helmets, making sure to turn off the HUD and illuminated visor. It would be daylight soon. But the two battle-weary commandos would have no trouble getting to sleep. Tracker nodded off first, comfortable from the get-go. Buckler had to shift around a couple times before he found the most comfortable spot on the jungle ground. His mind was still racing with thoughts about the squad’s exfil the next day. It was going to be chaotic. They’d have to trek through kilometers of dense jungle just to get to the RV, to say nothing of getting there on time. And if the shuttle was late, or if there were droids in their way… it didn't seem like a very pleasant outcome. Fairly soon, the thoughts stopped flowing and the demolitions expert drifted off into the sweet nothingness of sleep.

***

“Hey, sleepyhead!” Ka'rta called. “Good morning!”

The sound of his brother’s yelling woke Buckler with a bit of a start. It caused him to grab his Deece from beside him and aim it at the tent flap. Nothing was there. The tent was closed, and nothing sounded amiss. He grabbed his green-and-yellow colored helmet and shoved it onto his head. A quick blink and the HUD woke, showing him his armor integrity, personal shield strength, and the locations and biometric readings for his squadmates. The comm flared into life as well.

It sounded like the three outside were laughing.

“What's so funny?” the slicer wondered.

“What did you do to Tracker last night?” Ka'rta asked him. “He’s never cracked this many jokes since we met him.”

“Dunno,” Buckler replied. “I think he finally came to terms with some emotional _osik_ he’d been dealing with.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ajax said. “Who wants to wake up the General?”

“Not it,” answered Ka'rta and Tracker in unison.

“ _Not_ fair,” Buckler grumbled. “I’m not fully awake yet.”

“Hey,” Ka'rta consoled. “At least he kinda likes you.”

“Do we have to _wake_ him?” Buckler wondered. “We could fire a couple of shots, claim it was a droid patrol…”

“Or we could get the bugle and play reveille,” Tracker suggested.

“Nah. I think he’ll get up on his own accord,” Buckler said.

“In that case, anyone for a box of ration cubes?” Tracker joked.

“Don’t we have some _real_ food?” replied Ajax. “Ration cubes are meant for emergencies. Besides that, they taste absolutely _terrible._ ”

“Joking, Ajax,” Tracker reassured. “I have some powdered eggs, some nerf bacon, just a bit of hot sauce…”

Ka'rta snorted. “I saw you pack an entire _crate_ of that hot sauce.”

“Who packed the stove?” wondered Buckler. “Let's get some breakfast!”

“Got it right here,” Tracker stated. “Do you want that bacon crispy…” he turned on the flame. “...or _extra_ crispy?” At this, he turned the flame up so it was about ten centimeters tall.

“Um…” responded Ka'rta, “...how about just crispy?”

Tracker turned the flame back down. “Spoilsport,” he teased.

The clones began to cook their breakfast. After a couple of minutes, it seemed like the droids would need just an olfactory sense to find them. The smell of bacon even woke the sleeping Krell. He emerged from his tent.

“Who authorized this?” the General asked, furious.

“Morning, General,” Ajax replied, smoothly. “I thought it would be a good idea to cook a little food. Ration cubes taste terrible.”

“Better than the enemy knowing our position,” Krell spat. “RC-3608, discard that… meat and clean up the stove. I want no trace of your camp in ten minutes.”

Ajax scowled. “Yes, sir.”

“So, pack up camp, eat one ration cube each, and shift it to the RV,” listed Ka'rta. “That’s the plan?”

“Yep,” confirmed Ajax wearily. “That’s our plan. Hop to it.”

Ka'rta and Buckler went to pack up one of the tents, disassembling it and packing it up in less than five minutes. Ajax and Tracker did the same with the other tent. Soon, the space looked the exact same as it had when the five people had arrived the previous evening.

“Let's get moving,” Krell commanded. “The rendezvous is twenty klicks away, and we have less than three hours to meet our transport. Move it!”

“Right away,” Ka'rta responded.

The four commandos led the way for the four-armed Jedi. They walked at a brisk pace, faster than your average stroll in a park. It was a hard pace to keep for three hours on end. Phi Squad could do it, though. It was second nature to them. These were young men in peak physical condition. The forty-kilo survival packs they were wearing hindered them as little as the pace did. That being said, the four were soon anxious to board their transport and get some much-needed rest.

### 

###  1145 Hours, Rendezvous Point, Felucia

“Shew,” Buckler sighed, leaning up against a nearby tree-shaped fungus. “That was a long, hard walk.”

Tracker was slumped against a fallen log. He looked the most weary of all the clones. “That’s about the most accurate description I’ve ever heard.”

General Krell seemed unaffected by the wearying hike. “Look alive, soldiers! That shuttle will not wait for you to get off your lazy behinds and board. It will be here in fourteen minutes. I suggest you be ready by that time.”

Tracker was the only one of the four commandos to stand up. The rest remained seated, propped against various trees and logs. The comm would remain silent until the shuttle arrived, save for the heavy breathing and occasional impatient tooth click.

Soon, a Nu-class attack shuttle descended, its slanted wings folding downward from flight to landing position.

“Finally,” breathed Ajax. He sounded the epitome of relief. “That was a long fifteen minutes.”

Buckler laughed. “You could say that again.”

“All right, transport’s here,” Ajax commanded. “I want you in it as soon as that door opens.”

The clones stood up and hopped over to the now-open door, functioning as a boarding ramp. The five people clambered inside, eagerly awaiting the R&R promised by the long shuttle ride to Coruscant. All four clones and the Jedi sat on the chairs in the main hold of the vessel, patiently waiting for their next orders.

A hologram of the squad's advisor flickered into life there in the middle of the seating area.

“Good to see you alive and well, General,” the lieutenant observed. “It’s always nice to see a mission was successful. Your orders, General, are to proceed directly to Umbara. The assault there needs you. The 501st is already on the ground. Your task is to relieve Anakin Skywalker and take the Umbaran capital city. General Skywalker is needed on Coruscant.” The advisor paused, two fingers pressed against the side of his helmet. It seemed he was receiving new orders from HQ. “As for you, squad, you’ll be assigned to Kenobi’s unit, the 212th. They're in need of a commando squad as of the battle of Sarrish.”

Buckler groaned. “Do the knuckleheads up at Command not know we’re _humans?_ We need some R&R, Advisor. A couple of days back on Triple Zero, at the very least.”

“It’ll have to wait until after the Republic has taken Umbara. Sorry, thirty-three.”

Buckler made his distinctive sigh of defeat. “It was worth a shot,” he mumbled.

Ka'rta put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. “We were trained for this. It’ll be alright.”

Phi Squad’s shuttle landed in the hangar of an Acclamator in orbit of Umbara several hours later. The four clones disembarked with Krell, on to a new assignment that would surely wear on their nerves and push their endurance to the limit. It was going to be a long, hard haul until Phi Squad went back to Coruscant. That much was certain. Anything else… not so much. Not even that return to Coruscant was a guarantee. Tracker was just glad they were alive to see another sunrise, even if tomorrow’s sunrise never came.


	8. Part Five: A New Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phi Squad are sent to destroy a top-secret Separatist project. While executing their mission, they encounter some unexpected company...

“ _I have often wondered, since that_ di’kutla _mission to Felucia, if blind loyalty is expected of us. When I heard what had happened to General Krell on Umbara, I can't say I was sorry. But the episode did make me wonder about our loyalty to the Republic. Are we really expected to follow our Jedi Generals without question? That just doesn't feel right to me. I want to be able to question my orders. I do_ not _want to feel like a slave. I’m not. I am a soldier, a human being, a Mando’ad._ ”

Ajax, in the debriefing from Phi Squad’s month-long deployment on Drongar, Felucia, and Umbara

###  1325 Hours, 732 Days ABG, Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

### 

Bardan Jusik walked down the corridor to Phi Squad’s quarters to give them new orders. He knew his arrival wouldn’t be accepted warmly. They had just gotten back from another month-long deployment on various missions in the Outer Rim the last day. Nonetheless, HQ thought it was a good idea to send them out again. He reached for the door controls, but hesitated a moment. The Jedi wanted to make a note of the squad’s emotions before he broke the news. He reached out with the Force. The quarters were a kind of calm Jusik had felt once before, in the Temple. Before the war. He was amazed by the feeling, that four men bred to kill could feel this way. That _anyone_ could be at peace in this time of trial for the Republic. He supposed it was the temporary relief from combat, the fact that these clones were finally resting after a month of deployment. He could also sense their weariness. The long days of battle had taken their toll. In a few different ways. This squad had lost a brother, the Jedi reminded himself. That feeling was present in a smaller quantity. Tracker was working as a good fourth man, despite the squad’s previous loss.

Jusik shook the thoughts out of his head and tapped the door control. The door slid away, into the wall, and Jusik walked in, lightsaber on his belt, datapad under his arm, and his robes flowing behind him.

Ajax was sitting on his bunk cleaning his DC-17m and all its attachments, wearing nothing but his black bodysuit. “Afternoon, General. Anything you need?”

Even in this one sentence, Jusik could sense the anxiety and anticipation increase in the room. He was the bringer of missions, of bad news, of new tasks. “HQ is asking you to go on another mission.”

Ka'rta groaned audibly. “Not _again._ We just got back yesterday. What could they need so soon?”

“I trust you heard about Omega Squad’s mission to Qiilura to sabotage the FG36 virus project?”

The four commandos nodded an affirmative. Tracker was a bit hesitant in his nod, however.

“Is that the mongrel night ops squad?” the sniper wondered. “Wasn't that their first mission as a squad?”

“Yes to both,” Jusik confirmed. “They were separated, but found General Tur-Mukan, found each other, and completed the mission, capturing the scientist behind the weapon.”

“We’ve heard the story,” Ajax said. “What’s that got to do with our next mission?”

“Well, it would seem that an early prototype of the virus was kept by CIS command and is now in the hands of a Kaminoan geneticist, Hali Ke. She was captured during the Battle of Kamino last year, and was taken to Onderon. That's where we believe the Sep research facility is.

“In its current form, the virus will kill _anyone_ it comes into contact with, even nonclones. We must not let it get into the environment, and we must prevent the genetic targeting of the virus to affect clones only. I shouldn't have to tell you how important your mission to destroy the virus and all related research is.”

“You don't,” Ajax confirmed. “We know how critical this mission is. If the Seps get a virus that kills only clones, our war effort will be crippled. We’ll get the job done, General. You can count on us.”

Buckler rolled over to get a better look at Jusik. “When do we leave?” he asked.

“You’re going to hate me for saying this, but there’s a shuttle on the landing pad right now. HQ wants you to leave ASAP.” Jusik handed Ajax his datapad. “Here’s the full brief. Good luck.”

Ajax took the datapad and glanced at it. The first page read: “FG36: Clone-Targeted Nanovirus. Contents Classified, fingerprint required to display.”

“Thank you, General,” Ajax said, starting to get his armor on. “I’ll make sure to look this over.”

Jusik smiled empathetically at the four weary, helmetless commandos. “I’m sorry your next mission is so soon. I wish there was something I could do about it. You’ve earned some rest.”

“Good to know you’re looking out for us, General,” Ka'rta replied. “Since Felucia, I’ve learned never to take an empathetic general for granted.”

Jusik chuckled knowingly and turned to exit the room. His robes flowed gracefully behind him as he walked through the door and back into the hall. Behind the Jedi, the door slid closed.

Ajax threw his helmet on apparently haphazardly. “You heard him,” the sergeant said. “Shuttle’s already waiting. Shift it.”

Each of the others replied by moving to a sitting position on their bunks and beginning to strap on their armor plates.

“This is going to be a fun one,” Ka'rta commented. “Destroying Sep research?” The medic laughed aloud. “Sounds like the easiest mission in _months._ ”

Ajax was staring at the datapad. “Might not be. Intel reports that security has tightened since Omega went in and blew the facility on Qiilura.” He paused to contemplate something else. “The plans show that the virus is being stored in the lowest level of the complex, under tight guard. Looks like a group of six BX commando droids and a pair of destroyers.”

Buckler interrupted. “When Omega went in the first time, they gained access via a drain that ran under the facility. Couldn't we just do that?”

“No,” was Ajax’s harsh reply. “Droids have been posted at every access point to the facility sewage system. They remembered Omega’s tactics, too.”

“Stang!” Tracker cursed. “That’s going to make our job a kriffing lot harder.”

“Yep,” Ajax replied. “Going in the front door will be too hard, we won’t be able to go through the sewer, and digging a hole wouldn't be ideal. So, what options do we have?” He displayed a holo of the building plans retrieved by Intelligence for all to see.

Ka'rta put on his helmet, the final piece of his armor. “Aje, we should do this en route. We’ve got our armor on, and we’re ready to go. Let’s do this!”

“Good point. Phi Squad, move it!”

The four clone commandos walked through hallways and across the parade grounds to the landing pad, where a nearly triangle-shaped Nu-class shuttle was firmly parked. They proceeded up its boarding ramp into the main hold, where Ajax reactivated the holo of the plans. This was the planning phase of their mission.

“Navigating the Onderon jungle will be hard,” observed Buckler. “The Seps didn't make this place easy to find.”

“We know where it is,” Ka'rta pointed out. “Helmet nav will show the direction and distance.”

“Getting in really is the hardest part,” observed Tracker. “We could blow a hole in the wall, hereabouts…” he gestured to a section of the holo.

“Hey!” Buckler punched the sniper in his friendly way. “That’s _my_ line!”

“Not a bad suggestion,” remarked Ajax. “But that’ll get the droids on us faster than a dekk fly on a trash pile.”

“We can't just go in the front door,” Ka'rta reminded them. “If we do, their defenses will probably hit us hard. _And_ the dekk fly analogy once we get inside.”

“What’s _your_ plan?” Ajax prompted.

“Well…” the medic began, “...there’s always the drainage system. It looks like the access points are all guarded, true, but this one…” he pointed to a drain opening on the holo. “...is guarded by exactly one destroyer droid. That could be our easy way in.”

“The reason the guard on that drain is so small,” Ajax explained, “is because it has a direct line of sight to the front door. That method of entry will _not_ work. We can try the back drain, though.” He pointed to a drainage access at the back of the facility.

“Wait a tick,” said Tracker. “We’re overthinking this. We can come in from the top. See that skylight?”

“Yes, I do,” said Ajax. “There aren't many guards up there on the roof. That might not be a bad idea. The roof is usually the _last_ place they expect you to gain entry.” He slapped his hand onto Tracker’s shoulder. “Good man. I like creative thinking.”

The rest of the trip was spent figuring out specific details and backup plans. And planning a recce of the area. As Tracker had learned the hard way, you could never trust intel. After that was all done, the four used the time for some much needed shuteye.

###  2200 Hours, Jungle near CIS Research Facility, Onderon

Phi Squad had been dropped off, as planned, in the dense jungle near the facility. The shuttle departed immediately after the four commandos had debarked.

“Hear those departing engines?” asked Ajax. “That sound means we’re alone.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Tracker. “I’m still used to having an entire platoon, at least, for support.”

Ka’rta laughed. “You shiny boys. So used to having somebody else around. That’s not how it is for us. It seems like we do better without support from Command.”

“Yeah,” Tracker agreed. “I know. It’s still weird, though.”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” comforted Ajax.

“Target at twenty meters. Switch to minimal comms,” Buckler ordered. He could hear Ajax’s angry tooth click in the background. “Sorry, boss,” he apologized. “You seemed preoccupied. Wanted to point out the proximity of the base.”

“That’s okay,” Ajax explained. “I just haven't liked receiving orders from anyone other than a Jedi or Sergeant Bralor ever since I got comfortable taking charge. That’s all. What you did was correct.”

“Thanks for the kind word, boss,” Buckler replied.

“You said it yourself, though. Switch off comms.”

There was a faint clicking noise as the four turned off their squad communications so the droids couldn't pick up the signals. Collecting reconnaissance didn't require communication if roles were already assigned, as Phi’s were for this mission.

Tracker did his part, studying and recording the movements of the rooftop guard.

Buckler did his, checking out the spot where they had planned to rappel up to the roof.

Ka'rta had the job of gathering the shift change times. This would probably be a lot of watching nothing. But after a shift rotation, the job would be basically over. Droids were very strictly regulated. They tended to stick to the same time interval between shifts. That was defined by their battery life. Usually a squad went in to charge at about fifteen percent. Striking while batteries were depleted was usually a sound strategy. Combat drained their batteries faster. Communications, as in reporting an attack, _in the middle of combat_ was quite deadly to most B1s at less than fifteen percent battery.

The shift at the front door began to head in, swiftly replaced by droids that stood significantly more upright. An obvious effect of a full charge. Ka'rta started the stopwatch on his HUD, resizing it so it was less conspicuous. It would probably be a long wait until anything new happened.

Ajax had the job of relief and watching the squad’s back. He would readily step in for any of the others that needed it. Arguably, the most boring of all the jobs. Only Ka’rta would protest that claim, especially knowing that there would be nothing for hours now.

The next guard change would not occur for about twelve hours. It usually took that long for an idle droid’s battery to drain. Ka’rta predicted that would be several stimpills later. He was already falling asleep as it was. He groped around his belt pouch. Soon he found what he had been looking for: a small tube. There were several small, white, spherical pills inside it. He brought the tube into his field of view and popped the lid off it into his palm. He rolled out one of the pills into the palm of his other hand. He then brought the hand holding the pill up to his neck and lifted his helmet slightly. The jungle smelled of humidity and plants. A testament to the helmet filters. The smell wasn't important right now. He brought the pill to his lips and swallowed it, letting his helmet fall back into place. He secured the seal by dragging his hand down the faceplate slightly. It made a soft hissing sound as the helmet reconnected to the bodysuit. He put the cap back on the tube of stimpills and brought it back down to his belt pouch. A minute later, he felt a warm feeling rise in his body. The stimulant was working its magic. The medic was no longer tired.

Tracker was making careful notes on his HUD about movement on the rooftop. The droids up there seemed to be patrolling in twos. Two on the south wall, two on the north, and two who seemed to be there for support if something occurred. They might have to rethink their plan a bit. On the other hand, lobbing a “droid popper” EC grenade would disable the droids that were farther away from the squad rappel point, leaving the squad with a clear path… unless the base had sensors that tripped the alarm when sensors picked up the distinctive explosion of an EC det. Just to be safe, he supposed, he could stay on the hill when they went to execute the plan, and snipe the droids when appropriate. This plan only begged the question of how to get Tracker onto the roof.

Buckler had eyes on the droids closest to their rappel point. It looked like there were ten of them, split up between three posts. There were three at a drain access about five meters from the door. Four were closer to the back of the facility, and the other three guarded from a nearby wall, apparently better marksmen than most B1s. They appeared to hold sniper rifles. This might not be easy. He checked to see if he still had all of the components for the squad’s E-Web repeating cannon. It would certainly prove useful. The blaster itself was attached to his survival pack with a bungee cord. The tripod was secure on the other side of his pack. He nudged Tracker, who held up one finger. Last Buckler had checked, Tracker was the one with the power generator.

Tracker turned his helmeted head towards Buckler and shrugged slightly, as if to say “What do you want?”

Buckler replied by pointing with his thumb to the E-Web strapped on his back.

Tracker nodded and gestured to a small black box on his back.

Buckler gave the sniper a thumbs-up.

Ajax was watching the squad’s back. He happened to glance over and notice the exchange. He smiled underneath his faceplate, wondering what Buckler had seen to make him check that the cannon’s power cell was ready. He glanced at Buckler’s POV icon. The demoman was looking at the droid snipers again. Ajax also saw, through the video feed, that there were a lot of droids at the front door.

The sergeant looked down at his armor and seemed to remember something. He started to smudge mud on his armor. Looking at the rest of the squad, he realized that Ka'rta should probably follow suit, not having green or camouflaged armor like the other two. He elbowed the medic, who looked up almost immediately, and Ajax held up a fistful of mud.

Ka'rta took the hint and began to smudge his white and bright yellow armor with mud. Camouflage was particularly important during recon. It also helped with stealth.

The next twelve hours were a grueling haul for the four Republic Commandos. They were pushed to the limits of their endurance, both to stay in one place and to stay awake. Each had taken at least two stimpills. By that time, their collective knowledge of troop movements at the installation was greater than any other recon force would have had the patience to gather. Well, except maybe ARF troopers, whose entire job was to gather recon.

Ka'rta stopped his stopwatch as the droids stationed at the front door began to file in, again replaced by significantly more upright droids. The readout read exactly eleven hours, forty-five minutes, zero seconds. That was the precise interval this group of droids used, apparently.

The medic stood up as a signal to the others. His task, the longest, was over. They could now get some sleep, despite the rising sun in the east. The other three rose to follow him. The four walked in the direction opposite the base when they began to hear a rustling in the bushes next to them. It wasn't the carefully synchronized, mechanical steps of droids. Nor was it the familiar gait of a clone. This was an unidentified organic being, probably humanoid, assumed hostile until proven otherwise.

Ajax made a “stop” fist and trained his Deece on the bush that had moved. The other three did the same.

The movement in the bush stopped.

The clones’ trigger fingers tensed.

A humanoid figure emerged from the bushes, holding a sniper rifle, pointed into the air, a gesture of peace and surrender.

“You boys are Republic, right?” asked the woman who emerged. “Clones?”

Ajax turned on his helmet’s sound projectors, at a low volume. “What’s it to _you?_ ”

“Name’s Steela,” the woman said. “Steela Gerrera. I’m part of a rebellion against the false Separatist king, King Rash. We want to restore the true King of Onderon, King Dendup.”

Ajax softened his defensive tone. “Yes, we are clones. Republic Commandos. And maybe you could help us.”

“You attacking the Separatists?” Steela wondered. “If so, I’m in. And I’ll bring some of my friends.”

“Yes, we are,” Ajax replied. “The help would be appreciated. Our target is an installation about fifty meters that way.” He pointed behind them, in the direction of the Separatist facility.

“We know the place,” Steela confirmed. “When do we attack?”

“After me and my squad have gotten some sleep.”

“Absolutely. I’ll lead you to our hideout.”

The four commandos followed the rebel. After a minute or so of walking, the clones decided it was safe to turn their comms back on. A crackling came through the com as each turned on the helmet system.

“I’m not so sure we can trust this woman,” Tracker said. “My instincts are telling me something’s off with this.”

“We can trust her,” Ajax calmed. “You saw how she came out of the bushes with her rifle raised. She trusts us, so we can reciprocate.”

“That’s all fine and dandy, boss,” Tracker began, “but someone looking to capture us would employ trust tactics like that.”

“True,” Ajax confirmed, “but there were no markers she was lying. I know what to look for. She didn't so much as hesitate in telling us who she was, even with four blaster rifles trained on her.”

“I agree with Ajax here, Track,” Ka'rta said. “Bralor trained us in interrogation and how to tell if somebody’s lying for an entire month. She only spent a week on how to properly conduct a recce.”

“Yeah,” Buckler agreed. “My gut tells me she isn't lying.”

Tracker made an angry noise of concession. “Alright, I concede. We’ll trust her. Despite what Kal told me about trusting people after meeting them once.”

“Bralor gave us the same caution,” informed Ajax. “But she also told us what to look for in case of deception. And Steela hasn't shown _any_ of those signs.”

Steela turned to face the four, thinking the hike had been spent in silence. She was framed by a tall arch, covered in vines. The arch was topped by a flying Ruping, a large, winged beast that looked like a dragon with skin instead of scales. This one was being ridden by a man, who looked as though he was related to Steela. The skin tone and hair were right. He flew down to the ground on the beast, an obvious display of power and dominance.

“Who’re the new guys?” the man on top of the beast asked Steela.

“Clones, Saw,” Steela told her brother. “They’re here to attack that Separatist facility a couple klicks out. They want our help.”

Saw laughed, sliding coolly off his mount. “Us? We’re untrained rebels. What would elite soldiers like clones want our help for?”

Steela opened her mouth to speak, but Ajax stepped in front of her. His armor was still covered in a layer of mud.

“We need a diversion so we can sneak into the place unnoticed,” the sergeant informed. “Even for us, the droids are a bit many at that place.”

“Then how would we help?” asked Saw, still incredulous.

“You know how to scrap droids, right?” asked Buckler. “You can aim a blaster?”

“Some of us,” answered Saw. “Others… barely know how to operate a speeder.” Upon saying this, he glanced at the apparent operations center, an open building, a half-cylinder, that contained a large, round holotable. The building, like everything else in the camp, was covered in vines. Standing next to the holotable, poring over some kind of chart, was a boy, who looked no older than sixteen.

It looked like he carried a responsibility far greater than his age indicated. He also seemed to carry deep scars, those perhaps of an orphan.

Saw and Steela led the clones through the hubbub of the rebel camp to the command center. The group received several worried and some cheerful glances from rebel onlookers. Some didn't think they needed the Republic. Others were grateful for the support. None of them, not even Steela, knew Phi Squad’s real mission. They thought the Republic was here to support and help _them_. That wasn't the case right now. Phi had their own objective. These rebels would help the commandos _._

The boy standing next to the holotable extended his hand. “Lux Bonteri. My mother was the Senator for Onderon in the Separatist senate. Pleased to meet you.”

Ajax tentatively shook Lux’s hand. “I thought you rebels were against the Seps. Aren't you one, being a Sep Senator’s son?”

Lux looked a bit sad at the mention of his mother’s alignment. “Count Dooku had my mother killed. I’m no Separatist, not anymore.” He paused, as if thinking about something. “Do you know a padawan named Ahsoka Tano?”

Ajax was silent. Lux couldn't see his blank stare underneath the muddy helmet.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Lux said, disappointed. “Oh, could I trouble you to take off your helmets? It’s a little weird not seeing a man’s face.”

Ajax removed his helmet as a signal to the others.

The other three took off their helmets as well, revealing four copies of the same face. The only differences were in hairstyle and scars. Ajax and Tracker both wore the regulation crew cut, however, Tracker had dyed his hair blond. Ka'rta had his long brown hair in a bun at the base of his skull. Buckler had no hair to hide the long scar from just above his eyebrow to the crown of his head. It had been permanently burned off long ago by an explosion. The same explosion that had given him the scar.

Buckler, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence. “All due respect, Mister Bonteri, but we need at least a couple hours’ sleep before we do anything else.”

“Sure,” replied the senator’s son. “If you’ll follow me.”

The clones followed Lux in silence, helmets tucked under their right arms, each a perfect copy of the others.

Bonteri led the four out of the command center and into another, smaller building that looked like it had been much larger at one time. The whole base seemed to be the ruin of an ancient temple. Of course, the rebels had given it some technological upgrades such as power generators and holodisplays. There were vine-encrusted columns seemingly everywhere.

“This is our barracks,” Lux stated, in reference to the square-based, crumbling building in front of them. “Feel free to take any open bunk.”

“Thank you,” Ajax replied, entering the door that had slid open as he approached.

The beleaguered clones walked inside the dilapidated barracks to find that it was just a large room filled with as many bunks as would fit. It looked like it was a nightmare at peak capacity. There was one odd thing about it, though. There was nobody sleeping. It was past daybreak, yes, but the previous night’s watch should have been getting their shuteye. It was bad practice to not have a watch on duty while you were sleeping.

Buckler, having taken only two stimpills the night before, practically collapsed on the bunk nearest him. The others clambered into empty beds with a little more grace. All were tired. But they knew the power of even two hours’ worth of sleep.

###  1300 Hours, 733 days ABG, Onderon Rebels’ Camp, Onderon

### 

Two and a half hours later, Ka’rta woke to the sound of raucous swearing and what could have been screaming. It was laughter. He quickly shoved on his helmet and haphazardly strapped on his survival pack, grabbing his Deece and checking the charge level. The blaster was full. He rushed out the door and pointed his blaster at the source of the noise: a rowdy game of Sabacc. The commando quickly lowered his blaster and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his overreaction. Tracker was staring at the medic from over at the Sabacc table. Ka'rta decided to sheepishly remove his helmet and walked over to the table, feeling quite embarrassed.

The game was being played by Ajax, Buckler, Tracker, Steela, Saw, and a couple of other rebels who seemed to, inexplicably, look the exact same.

“Morning,” Ka’rta said, still coming down from his adrenaline high.

“That was awfully awake-sounding for you,” Buckler teased. He placed one of his cards in the interference field. It was the idiot.

“Yeah,” the medic replied sheepishly. “The sounds of your card game gave me quite a start.”

Ajax laughed. “Was it all the _di’kutla_ swearing?”

“Something like that.”

Saw cut in. “Well, since you’re all awake now, why don’t we make our plan to attack that facility?”

“Good idea,” Ajax praised. “I’ve had a few thoughts about that.” He turned to Steela. “How are you with that sniper rifle?”

“I’d like to say pretty decent,” she replied confidently.

“Can you hit some droids on the roof of the complex?”

“Sure.”

“Great.” Ajax turned back to Saw. “You and the others can do an assault on the front door of the facility when I give you the signal.”

“Copy that,” Saw replied. “We’ll be ready to scrap some droids.”

“Don't be afraid to pull out of there when we’ve achieved entry,” cautioned Buckler. “You're providing us with cover and distracting the droid patrols.”

“Okay,” confirmed Saw. “But we’ll finally get to blast some of those clanking invaders.”

“Yeah,” one of the identical rebels agreed. “I’m not sure I’ll _want_ to leave.”

“You will,” warned Tracker. “Battle droids overwhelm in numbers. Blast one, and ten others swarm to take its place.”

“Yeah,” Ka'rta agreed. “Get out of there as soon as we get in. That’s an order.”

“You can’t give us orders,” Saw pointed out. “We’re civilians. _Separatist_ civilians.”

“True,” Ajax replied, “but you have volunteered to cooperate with us. Let's not get all _legal_ here, shall we? Just trust us on this. You don't want to lose anybody, do you?”

“Alright, you win,” conceded Saw, a thoughtfully concerned look spreading across his face. “We’ll pull out when you give the signal.”

“Excellent. Let's get started, shall we?” Ajax got up, revealing his hand in the card game. Ten, four, and nine. A total of twenty-three. Pure Sabacc. Ajax was lucky today. He picked up his blaster and shoved on his helmet.

Ka'rta put his helmet back on and followed the sergeant.

Tracker and Buckler appeared to perform the same task as the others in perfect synchronization. That made Steela blink, wondering if she’d seen correctly.

Four armored commandos strolled through the tall, vine-covered arch in the direction of the Separatist base. Saw and Steela exchanged a quick glance, then Saw yelled, “Everyone, come on! Grab your blasters! We’re headed off to scrap some clanking vermin!”

This cry elicited a cheer from the camp. There was quite a bit of rustling as people grabbed the nearest blaster. Steela checked that her prized purple sniper rifle was secure over her shoulder. Saw ran a bit to catch up with the clones.

“So,” the rebel wondered, “Steela’s going to clear a path for you, and the rest of us are going to attack the front door?”

Ajax had turned icily cold. “Was the plan not clear? Yes, that is what we’re going to do.”

Saw backed off at this. He was a little apprehensive because of the sudden change. He stammered a few times, then decided it would be better to stay silent. He dropped behind the clones, next to Buckler.

Buckler decided to console Saw a bit. “He gets this way before every mission. Don't take it personally.”

Saw couldn't see the commando’s reassuring smile beneath the helmet. “Thanks,” he said, a bit bewildered by the speed of the whole interaction.

Ka'rta, right behind Ajax, dropped back to talk with Steela. “You’ll be posted near where we ran into you last night. There's an overlook near there that has a great line of sight to the roof. Try not to attract too much attention to your position.”

Steela nodded in understanding while the medic ran down the plan. “And I can help cover my friends once you're all in?”

“As long as you don't reveal your position,” Ka'rta replied. “There's a team of droid snipers that might give you trouble. We should take them out, but no guarantees.”

Steela nodded in confirmation.

Buckler was still a little fuzzy on the plan. “So, Ajax,” he asked over the helmet comlink, “we’re not waiting for the droids’ batteries to drain?”

“We don't need to,” answered the sergeant. “We have more manpower than we were planning on.” He gestured to the rebels trailing them by a few meters.

“Thanks, boss.”

“Don't mention it.” Then Ajax noticed something. He held up his left fist in a “halt” gesture. They were here. “Steela?” he called.

The rebel sniper stepped forward.

“To your post,” Ajax directed. He pointed to the path leading to the overlook.

Steela walked off in the indicated direction, taking her rifle off of her shoulder.

“Saw,” Ajax said.

Saw looked over at the sergeant.

“Go over to the east side of the facility. We'll be on the west. I’ll flash a light at you when I want you to attack. Got it?”

The self-appointed rebel leader simply nodded. He started leading his variegated troops, both men and women, off to the east.

Phi Squad was once again alone. They crept to the edge of the bushes, to look at their target.

The Separatist base looked quite different from the ground. It seemed taller somehow. The defenses certainly looked more intimidating.

“Buck, set up that E-Web,” commanded Ajax.

Buckler took the tripod and blaster cannon off his pack and detached the power generator from Tracker’s. He then set the heavy blaster cannon up, facing the droids.

Ajax put his macrobinoculars against his faceplate, infrared mode on. He looked beyond the virus facility, into the bushes on the east side. He saw a great number of heat signatures, probably Saw and his men. The way they moved, a bit jittery, told Ajax they were anxious to get the signal.

Ajax turned to look for Steela’s position. He saw only the end of her sniper rifle’s barrel, and that only because he knew what to look for. The sniper was well-hidden.

“Heavy weapons ready, boss,” Buckler announced.

“Wait for my signal,” Ajax intoned. He looked back towards Saw’s position, and put his hand on the spot-lamp control on the side of the helmet. He made sure Saw was looking his direction. He was. Ajax flicked on the spot-lamp, then quickly flicked it off, then back on again.

“Now, Buck!” the sergeant yelled. He flicked off his light.

Buckler squeezed the trigger control on the E-Web and opened fire on the battle droids. He downed several with the heavy repeating blaster.

At the same time, Saw and the rebels charged the droids at the front of the facility. An alarm started blaring in the distance. All nearby units flocked to the entrance to repel the rebel attack. Something exploded.

From the battle cries and excessive amounts of blaster fire Ajax heard, the rebel fighters had no real form. There were no tactics, little knowledge of droid anatomy, and, worst of all, it seemed like many of them couldn't aim their blasters properly.

Buckler was still letting rip on the E-Web. So far, he’d downed the droid snipers, a bunch of B1s, and even a Super Battle Droid. Then he heard Ajax’s next order.

“We’re going in,” the sergeant commanded. “Cover fire, get to safety real quick, you know the drill.”

“Copy that.” The affirmation came from at least two of the others.

Buckler, conceding that his precious E-Web would still be there when they got back, raised his blaster and charged with the others. The four had made it halfway to the wall when a salvo of blaster fire came their way. Ajax fired at the source of the blasts. So did Tracker. Together, they made quick work of the four droids who had noticed them.

The only other thing that interrupted the squad’s sprint was the wall. The four lined up next to it, facing out. Ajax holstered his Deece and started fumbling for something in his belt. He pulled out his ascension cable and started looking for a good place to fire it at. He quickly found what he was looking for and fired the cable. He secured the free end of the cable in the winch on his belt. To anyone watching, it looked like the clone was walking up the wall.

The rest of the squad soon followed their leader’s example, firing ascension cables and letting their belt winches take them up. Soon, the four were on the roof. It was already clear of droids.

Ka'rta waved in the direction he knew Steela was in. He didn't see her waving back. She was too well hidden.

Buckler walked up to the glass skylight and pulled out a plasma torch. He got to work cutting the window open.

Tracker surveyed the landscape surrounding them. It was relatively flat, with a few hills scattered across the vast plain. It was a very dense jungle that seemed to extend endlessly in all directions. If nothing else, it was certainly beautiful.

The sniper’s reverie was soon interrupted by Buckler’s cry.

“Access gained,” the slicer called.

“Good man,” praised Ajax. “Let’s see what’s underneath us.”

“Copy that,” said Ka'rta as he dropped a cable into the room beneath the skylight. He tied one end to an antenna that was near the window, and grabbed hold of the rope to rappel into the abyss below.

“Turn on night vision. Looks like somebody decided to turn off the power in this section,” the medic informed.

As Buckler proceeded down the rope behind Ka'rta, he blinked a couple times, once long, once short, to turn on his helmet’s night vision filter. Revealed below was a bare room. The color Buckler was sure existed was obscured by the night vision filter.

Tracker slid down the rope after the slicer. They were soon joined by Ajax.

The sergeant pulled up a building plan on his HUD. “Looks like the virus storage chamber is this way.” He indicated a door and walked up to it. “Let’s go in… quietly.”

“Right away, sir!” Buckler replied, walking over to the door control. He began pressing buttons, and in ten seconds, the console turned green. “Well, here goes.” The slicer entered the next room. “Droids encountered!” he yelled.

Ajax made a “go” gesture by flicking his wrist toward the door. He walked through to find himself facing a room full of B1s and SBDs. He thought he also saw a couple of destroyers. “Fierfek,” he swore, ducking out of the way of a missile launched by an SBD.

Buckler was right next to him, seated with his back propped against a sturdy-looking crate. He popped up to shoot at another of the droids. “You can switch off night vision,” he informed. “Plenty bright in _here,_ ”

Ajax switched off his night vision mode. He stood up and fired at the most decrepit-looking SBD he could see, and downed it in two shots. He crouched back into cover.

The two were swiftly joined in their cover by Ka’rta and Tracker.

“What’s our status, boss?” wondered the medic.

“Pinned down without support,” Ajax answered. “What’s it look like?”

Tracker sniggered. “Nothing new there. Want me to get their attention?”

“By all means,” Ajax responded.

Tracker got up and fired a couple shots into the swarm of droids. It looked like the squad’s efforts hadn’t quite done anything. In fact, there were more droids now than there had been before. The crowd had also grown to include several BX-class commando droids. Tracker proceeded to run across to another nearby crate, firing into the mess of enemies as he went. His new cover position wasn’t very secure, though. One of the destroyers had a direct line of fire to him. The sniper was quickly incapacitated. He screamed in pain as he fell.

“Keep it together!” Ajax insisted. “Cover fire!”

The sergeant rushed the nearest SBD and stabbed it several times with his vibroblade before the droid had a chance to react to the sudden development. It fell backward, letting out a mechanical cry of pain.

A commando droid jumped on Ajax as soon as the SBD had fallen. It was clutching a vibrosword. Ajax flipped over underneath it and stabbed its optical cluster with his knuckle plate blade. The droid pulled back slightly, its grip on Ajax’s arms unrelenting. With one hand it raised its vibrosword and adjusted the blade so it was perpendicular to the clone’s neck. Just as the sword came closer to beheading the sergeant, the droid’s head was blown into dust and nothingness by a blaster shot. Its body fell, limp, on top of Ajax. He got up almost immediately, the droid corpse rolling off his chest. His Deece raised, he spun around and shot down several B1s. Behind him, Buckler was gripping a smoking sidearm, now aimed at Ajax’s purple-striped helmet. He quickly reaimed the pistol and double-tapped, downing a Super Battle Droid. It fired several times into the ground as it fell.

Ka'rta was crouched, walking toward the downed Tracker. He lobbed a droid popper in the direction of the destroyer that had hit Tracker. It paralyzed the droid, giving the medic enough time to pull out his field bacta and revive the incapacitated sniper. Tracker slowly rose to his feet, then quickly reloaded his blaster.

“Thanks for the assist, eighty,” Tracker grinned.

“Not a problem, twenty-six,” Ka’rta replied.

The two ducked behind a crate just in time. The destroyer had recovered from its paralyzed state, and had gotten several shots off. One had hit Ka'rta.

“You okay?” Tracker asked the medic, looking at the squad biometric readings on his HUD. Ka'rta looked at critical health.

Ka'rta looked down at his biometrics. “Nothing a little bacta won't fix in a minute,” he answered. “Hey! Get down!” An SBD missile flew over their heads.

Tracker brought out the anti-armor attachment and shot down the droid that had fired at them.

“Whoo!” Buckler yelled. “Nailed it!” He subsequently ducked out of the way of a missile aimed at him.

Ajax shot down that droid. “Keep moving! We have to destroy this facility and get the Kaminoan out.”

“Ten-four, boss,” Tracker replied.

The four fought their way to better cover. It was a square area, bounded by boxes, that they finally settled into.

“This is too much like a foxhole,” Tracker said as he threw a thermal detonator into the crowd of droids. “Brings back bad memories of Geonosis.”

Buckler had brought out his last-ditch attachment: the sniper rifle. He was shooting SBDs left and right. Then he noticed a familiar-looking label in his scope, right next to a destroyer. He shot the container of rhydonium, which promptly exploded, taking out the destroyer droid’s shield. A shot to the optical cluster, and it, too, went up in smoke. The slicer ducked back behind the crate he was using for cover and took a few seconds to catch his breath.

Ka'rta spoke up as he shot at something. “Fierfek. Commando droids. Bang out! Grenade!”

The four commandos jumped out of their “foxhole” right as a thermal detonator landed in the middle of it. Blaster fire, both blue and red, cut through the cloud of smoke. A commando droid tackled Buckler, causing his grip to slacken on his Deece. He struggled to get out of the droid’s choke hold, to no avail. The grip of a machine was stronger than anything Kaminoan genetic engineering could produce. A yellow boot nearly stamped in Buckler's faceplate along with the droid’s.

“Thanks, eighty,” Buckler said, picking up his dropped blaster and firing at the vague outline of a droid. The smoke hadn't entirely cleared. The silhouette dropped, and got back up. “That’s a tough droid!” Buckler yelled.

“We’ve seen these before, Buck,” Ajax pointed out. “That shouldn't be surprising by now!”

“Just hard to get used to ‘em standing right back up after they drop.”

“I hear you,” called Tracker as he dived into a roll that brought him behind one of the droids. He took out his pistol and shot the back of its head. “Blasted that scrap pile.” He shot the droid’s limp body for good measure. One could never be too sure.

Blaster fire was still thick in the air. Bolts of charged energy were whizzing past the cover positions Phi Squad was standing behind.

“They’re protecting the virus chamber,” Ajax observed, a note of hopelessness audible in his voice.

“Rule sixty-three, boss,” Tracker reminded. “No plan survives contact with the enemy.”

“They were waiting for us,” Buckler conjectured.

“Or they were just ready for someone to infiltrate the facility,” Ka'rta pointed out. “Beefy security doesn't mean they knew about _us_.” He leaned out from cover to take a shot and a blaster bolt whizzed by the side of his helmet, causing him to get back into his cover position. “Kraffing tinnies!” He leaned back out and shot a droid cleanly in the eye.

“Good shot!” cried Ajax, who saw the droid drop when Ka'rta shot it.

“Thanks, eight.”

“Look,” Buckler began, “we have to get to that room and plant a charge. It’s our only chance of completing the mission.”

“He’s right,” Tracker agreed. A blast skimmed right in front of him, almost hitting him in the chestplate. “It’s the only way.”

“I think I have a way around those droids, boss,” Buckler stated. In his hand, it looked like he had a fully armed explosive charge.

“That looks like a way _through_ them,” commented Ka'rta.

Buckler didn't give any thought to the comment, throwing the armed explosive as hard as he could at the squad of commando droids guarding the door. A second later, he pressed the detonator, releasing an explosion that blew the six droids into dust. The door also was blown backwards by the shockwave. The way was now clear.

“Buck,” Ajax praised, “I just don't know how you do it.”

“A thermal det here, some explosives there…” the slicer replied smoothly. “It usually solves my problems.” He kicked a charred commando droid with his foot. “I’m surprised you hadn't figured that out after thirteen years,” he added, teasingly.

Ajax and the others looked through the blown-out door into a bright, clinically sterile room.

Buckler was, though not willingly, the one to enter first. He searched for tripwires, a force field, a laser tripwire, or really any kind of booby trap. This didn't seem like an ideal situation. Even for RCs.

Deeming the doorway safe, Buckler put one foot through, then the other. Nothing happened.

“All clear, boss.”

Ajax flicked his wrist in a “proceed” gesture. “Hope we don't activate any hidden traps,” he remarked.

Of course, there was always something. A Magnaguard’s red eyes flickered into life in the corner of the room. Phi Squad was lucky it didn't have an electrostaff. It charged out into the center of the room, getting into a fierce grappling match with Ajax. The clone was trying to protect himself, in any way he could. The mechanical strength of the droid didn't help his self-preservation.

“A… little… help… would be… appreciated,” the sergeant strained.

Buckler tried to get a clear shot with his anti-armor. “You’ll have to get away from the droid, boss. Can't get a clean shot with you there.”

“I don't care… if you have… to take… a plasma torch… to its neck.”

Buckler accepted the idea and got his plasma torch back out. He walked over to the droid wrestling with his sergeant and lit up the torch. From the crown of the droid’s head, the slicer drew a line straight down to the droid’s pelvic joint. It's grip fell limp, and Ajax pushed the halved corpse off to the side.

“Let’s plant a charge on the virus storage container and get out of here,” the sergeant said. “I’ve about had it with these droids jumping me from every corner.”

“We also need to destroy their main computer,” Tracker pointed out. “I can create a system malfunction so that nobody can access the data.”

“Get on it,” ordered Ajax. “Buck?”

“Show me where to plant the charge.”

Ajax looked around the room. After a second, he spotted what he was looking for: a durasteel box, about a quarter of a meter square, ten centimeters in height. It was marked with a yellow and black label.

“Incinerate that box,” Ajax directed.

Buckler walked over to the virus container and lifted it up. “You sure the virus is in here? Feels like an empty durasteel box to me.” He proceeded to open the clasp.

“Wait,” Ka'rta ordered. “Don't open it yet. We need to take more caution. There might be a deadly nanovirus in there.” The medic walked over, grabbing a fifty-centimeter long rod from the workbench next to the box. “Stand back.”

Ka'rta placed the flat end of the tool he was holding in the crack between the top and bottom of the box. He pried it open, and saw foam padding with a cutout in the middle, big enough for a cylindrical container of a ten-centimeter diameter and the same height.

“Box is empty,” Ka'rta reported. “What do we do now?”

“Run like hell,” Tracker said. “There's a bomb in that box!”

###  1330 Hours, Virus Facility, Onderon

### 

The flashing red light Tracker had seen on the side of the now-open virus box was flashing faster and faster with each passing second.

“Bang out!” Ajax yelled. “That bomb will go off any minute!”

“You don't have to tell _me_ twice,” Buckler said, sprinting, like the rest of them, for the permanently open door.

Just as Ka'rta, still the farthest from the door, made it to the threshold, a blinding white flash became visible. Ajax was certainly glad their buckets were soundproofed. That looked like a loud one.

Buckler laughed. “That looked like a fun one… well, it would have been if I’d set it.”

“Was this a setup?” interrupted Tracker. “Did they feed us false plans and objectives?”

“Maybe not,” answered Ajax. “I remember seeing a basement on the plans. Apparently, that’s where they’re keeping Hali Ke.”

“Let’s head there, then,” agreed Ka'rta. “Assuming the droids don't know we’re still here.”

“They probably think we went up with that ‘bang,’” commented Buckler.

“Where’s the turbolift?” wondered Tracker.

“I think I saw it in the dark room,” remembered Ka'rta. “The one we roped into.”

Ajax walked toward the door they had come in through, that led to the darkened room where they had entered the building. “Let’s find out if the virus really exists.” He motioned for Buck to come to his right, the other side of the door. Then, he waved Ka'rta and Tracker through.

The three did as they were ordered, turning on their night vision filters as well.

“All clear,” said the disembodied voice of Ka'rta, his form obscured by the darkness. “Come on in.”

Ajax nodded to Buckler and followed the other through the open door. The room was as open and unfurnished as before. A door, which looked to be one to a cylindrical turbolift, sat waiting on the other side. The four commandos entered it.

“I hate turbolifts,” announced Buckler.

“You’ve mentioned it,” said Ka'rta.

“It’s the feeling of helplessness, of having to trust nothing’s going to happen,” the slicer continued.

“You’re ranting again, Buck,” reminded Ka'rta. “ _Use_ your fear, don't let it use you.”

“I didn't say I was afraid—” Buckler was interrupted by the sound of the turbolift touching down. The door in front of the four slid away, to the right.

“Shift it,” Ajax growled. His squad obeyed quickly, moving as one into the next room.

“It’s too quiet,” observed Tracker. “I think they know we’re here.”

Indeed, seven pairs of white optical sensors lit up to gaze upon the four unfortunate clones. Commando droids.

Somebody whispered “ _fierfek._ ” Or they all, in the same breath, whispered the curse. In any case, four DC-17m rifles were raised in one swift motion, by four men acting as one.

Ajax made some rapid hand gestures. The gist was “I want two of you on the left flank and the other to come with me on the right.”

The others nodded in agreement, moving to the indicated positions. Tracker and Ka'rta took the left, while Buckler started following Ajax.

The droids fired the first shots, at the now-closing turbolift door.

Buckler laughed. “Missed me,” he called.

Ajax glared, taking a shot at the droid nearest him. It hit the droid in the head, making it face the sergeant. Ajax stood deathly still, waiting for the droid to take a shot. It didn't take that shot. Instead, Buckler delivered the final blow to the droid, in the form of a vibroblade to the neck, severing multiple now-exposed wires.

“That was easy,” Buckler proclaimed. He was subsequently shot at by another one of the droids. The blast was diffused by his shields, his HUD giving him a location to shoot at when he turned around.

“Eighty, I need you and Tracker to take those droids down,” ordered Ajax as he dodged a blast. “Suggest vibroblades.” He proceeded to return fire, emptying half his clip to down just one of the armored commando droids.

“On it, boss,” the medic responded.

Right after that, Ajax heard a gauntlet vibroblade eject and a droid cry in mechanized pain. He soon heard the sounds again, this time slightly closer to him.

“That’s my squad,” Ajax breathed. He didn't care that his every swallow or tooth click could be heard by everyone else over the helmet comm. He was _proud_ of them.

“Thanks, boss,” said Buckler, ripping a droid’s head off from behind. “Means a lot to us.”

“Try not to read too far into it,” Ajax joked as he kicked the final standing droid and shot it in the head. “Time to move on.”

“Copy that, boss,” laughed Ka'rta. “Setting breach charge.”

“Don't!” Ajax yelled. “Slice that door control. Hali Ke is probably on the other side.” He processed what he had just said a moment. “Don't get me wrong, I’d like to kill that _gihaal_ , that cold-blooded fish-meal, but HQ wants her. Alive.”

By the time Ajax’s monologue had finished, the door control was already flashing green.

“Whenever you're ready, boss,” commented Ka'rta, stifling a laugh. “Door’s open.”

Ajax had his playful death glare working in full effect. “Then let’s go in.” He flicked his wrist forward in the universal “go” gesture.

The four proceeded through the unlocked door, Deeces trained on all angles.

“Clear,” announced Tracker. “Nothing.”

Very soon, a slender, snake-like head on a matching neck rose on the other side of the room. The figure’s hands were raised in surrender. It was the Kaminoan, Hali Ke.

“Stand down,” Ajax ordered. He and the others dropped their blasters into a nonlethal position. They could drop their guard for now.

“Nice to see our _products_ have delivered.”

Ajax almost raised his rifle and shot the geneticist right there and then for emphasizing that particular keyword. He resisted the urge. _It’s not your place to decide what parts of our orders to follow or not. Keep the aiwha-bait alive._

“We do what we’re ordered,” were the carefully measured words finally uttered by the sergeant.

“Just as I engineered you to.”

Ajax stared angrily into those cold, grey eyes, grateful for the helmet obscuring his gaze. “We should get out of this installation as soon as possible.” He cast his gaze about the room, looking for their other objective. “Where’s the nanovirus?”

“Nanovirus?” wondered the Kaminoan, shocked at the term. “They’ve told me nothing of a nanovirus.”

“Must be a trap,” mused Tracker. “A ruse designed to lure us here.”

“Either that, or HQ gave us bogus orders,” replied Buckler. “We should get out and call for an evac ASAP.”

“Why would HQ send us on a wild nerf chase?” wondered Ka'rta.

“No, it’s almost definitely a trap. Shift it!” yelled Ajax, his tone nervous yet cool.

The four clones plus the Kaminoan left the room only to find the trap had been sprung. They faced an advanced dwarf spider droid, flanked by two destroyers and more SBDs than any of them cared to count.

“Cover!” Ajax’s command demonstrated their top priority in this situation. Or any such trap. You had to get to cover first, if you wanted to live for any amount of time. A trap was the single most lethal tactical maneuver you could set up… or walk into. Ajax shook the lectures back into the subconscious part of his mind. “Buckler, I could use a brilliant tactic right about now…”

“How about a big explosion?”

“Can you set it up so we aren't taken with the blast?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Not good enough.” Ajax looked around his cover and saw a volley of more blaster rounds than he cared to admit, plus a couple of missiles. That made him shrink back into cover. “What do they stand to gain by capturing or killing us?”

“We have intel on Coruscant installations,” answered Ka'rta. “We know the layout of Arca Barracks, plus where the Jedi Temple and Senate building are, but nothing really _useful._ ”

“We know tactics, maneuvers, and protocols,” listed Tracker. “Republic military procedures. They might be installing an infiltration program in some of their units.”

“That seems like the most likely explanation for the trap,” Ajax mused, again attempting to look out, again finding himself pinned under cover. “Any solutions yet?”

“I could get under that spider droid and plant a demo charge with appropriate cover fire,” Buckler announced. “With just enough yield to knock out the droid. The shrapnel ought to take care of the rest.”

“I like your thinking,” Ajax replied. “But they’ve got us pinned down pretty well. I’m not convinced that we could give you suitable cover fire.”

“I’m at full integrity and shields,” Buckler reported. “We can pull this off if no one throws a grenade at me.”

“I don't know about this, Buck. Too risky.”

“We could call in another favor from our rebel friends,” Tracker suggested.

“Not such a bad idea. But they might lose some people,” warned Ajax. “We should tell them to be careful.”

“Got their comlink frequency right here, boss,” said Buckler, staring at his left gauntlet.

“Do it. Call them. I’m about out of ideas. And patience.”

“On it, boss.” Buckler paused to press several buttons. Then a crackling sound signaled the addition of new voices to the comm channel. “This is Buckler calling from Phi Squad. We are pinned down at the Separatist facility and require assistance. Repeat, pinned down and require assistance.”

Steela’s voice came through. “What do you need from us?” she wondered. “Are we supposed to retransmit your message?”

“No,” responded Ajax. “We are requesting _your_ immediate assistance at the installation here. Our situation is pretty grim.”

“We’re on our way to assist.”

Another crackle. “Well, I guess we’re getting out of this mess,” Ka'rta theorized. “That, or we all get killed.”

“I like option one better,” mumbled Tracker.

“So do I,” concurred Buckler.

The squad’s idle conversation was brusquely interrupted. The droids had become aware of their cover positions, and were ready to spring on the four. The assault began with four slow-moving SBDs walking into blaster range and opening fire on each commando. The sounds of vibroblades permeated the air, coupled with mechanized screams and tearing metal. The first wave was quickly dispatched. The next… not so much. Four commando droids jumped out to replace the B2s. These were equipped for close quarters, vibroswords raised. All four were worried about the few vulnerable points in their armor.

“This situation’s no good,” reported Buckler. He was using his Deece to lock the commando droid’s blade and keep it from slashing his neck.

Ajax was dodging his own problem, eventually getting his left gauntlet under the blade and up to the droid’s chin. He ejected the vibroblade. The droid fell. “Need a hand?” he asked, taking aim at the droid pinning Buckler with his sniper attachment. He took the shot, only to find his scope obscured by another droid. Before his next shot was charged, Ajax found himself lying on the floor, pinned with a blaster to his chest. He surrendered by removing his hands from the weapon. “I don’t see that we can fight our way out of this,” he advised.

As Ajax lowered his weapon, the rest of the squad followed in his example.

A moment later, the squad’s surrender was interrupted by a klaxon blaring in the distance. “Situation at the front gate,” a mechanized B1’s voice reported. “All hands to the front gate. Repeat, all droids report to the front gate.”

The rather deeper voice of the commando droids replied to the announcement. “Roger, roger.”

“Looks like our friends came through,” Ka'rta said as he brushed some dust off of his blaster before picking it up off the floor. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Couldn't agree more,” concurred Ajax, proceeding to brush off his arms and to pick up his own blaster.

Buckler, who was watching the droids go up the turbolift through his open iron sights, chuckled and said, “Boss, you never stop surprising me. Shall we pursue those droids?”

“Yes. We need to help those rebels in every way we can. They’ve done enough favors for us.”

“The least we can do is get those droids off their back,” continued Tracker. “Brilliant idea, boss.”

“Get on that turbolift,” Ajax mock-snapped. “Now!” He gestured for the Kaminoan geneticist to follow. She responded immediately.

Muted laughter filled the comlink from all four clones as they boarded the turbolift which would take them into a new kind of hell. Hali Ke felt no better about it.

###  1350 Hours, Onderon Installation, Ground Level

Saw and Steela were trapped on opposing sides of the main door to the installation. Their troops were laying down cover fire as best they could.

“Are we supposed to get in there and drag them out or what?” yelled Saw, throwing a grenade into the mess of droids. A muted explosion followed.

“I don't think so,” Steela yelled back. “Our job was just to get the droids away from them.”

“Seems like we’ve done a pretty good job of that.”

The advancing droids suddenly stopped and appeared to turn around and shoot at something else.

“Looks like the droids have noticed someone else for a change,” observed Steela. “Might be the clones.” She gestured to her troops to move in. The rebels renewed their assault.

“Nice of you all to drop by,” came a remark from Ka'rta, over his helmet’s sound projection systems.

“You called,” Steela yelled back, a bit singsongily. “We came to the rescue.”

“I wouldn't put it _that_ way,” Ka'rta yelled back, dodging a blast. “Though that seems pretty accurate at the moment.”

The droids attempted to divide their collective attention between the clones and freed Kaminoan and the rebel forces on the other side. It only served to expedite their demise, half the forces exposing their backs to their attackers, the other half with their backs still to the rebels. Within a minute, the automaton defenders were reduced to scrap.

“Thanks for the assistance, Steela,” Ajax said, grateful. “That’s two we owe you.”

“Anytime,” the rebel replied.

“There has to be _something_ we can do for you,” the sergeant insisted.

“Well,” Steela began, thinking hard, “you could tell the Jedi Council about our efforts to liberate our homeworld.”

“I’ll see to it personally.” Ajax walked over and gave Steela a firm pat on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine. And even better with a little training.” He turned around to face his squad and their liberated prisoner. “Buck, tell HQ we’re all done here. And that we got the _kaminii._ ”

“You got it, boss.”

With that word of confirmation, Buckler transmitted the signal to Coruscant, with relief. They had finally gotten through hell and were headed back home.


	9. Part Six: Long is the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the CLONE WARS draw to an end, Phi Squad finds themselves confronted with difficult choices about what comes next...

“ _During the mission, we encountered a group of rebels, led by Saw and Steela Gerrera. They requested Republic support. I think they would benefit from that support. Their tactics need refining, and their equipment upgrading, but I think this would be a move worth making. Of course, the final decision is_ yours, _General.”_

Ajax, to General Arligan Zey, after the mission to Onderon

###  0600 Hours, 1070 Days ABG, Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

### 

This was the most critical hour of the entire war effort. The Outer Rim Sieges were in full swing, Intelligence was hot on the trail of General Grievous, and it was felt by all that the end was near. The feeling was especially present in Jedi Master Arligan Zey.

Though the war was going well, Zey had some _very_ bad news to deliver to Phi Squad. The Separatists had invaded Coruscant. When he looked out his office window, the Jedi could see more than a dozen CIS transports landing nearby. It seemed that not even the capital of the Republic was safe. The General tapped a button on his desk.

“General Zey to Phi Squad. Ajax, get your men down to my office at once.”

Ever since Jusik had left the Jedi Order, Zey had had to take over the responsibility of briefing the clones. Zey didn't have _any_ idea how his Padawan had kept all those names straight.

A tired-sounding clone answered the call. “Yes, General. We’re on our way now.”

Zey tapped the button once more. “Niner?”

“Yes, General?” was the Omega Squad sergeant’s prompt reply.

“I need you boys down here as well.”

“Right away, sir.”

Zey slumped back in his chair and activated a tactical hologram of the battle over his desk. It didn't look good. The Separatists were gaining ground in the residential sector, where heavy fighting would surely hurt Galactic City’s civilian population. The droids knew where to land so they would inflict the most damage. A careful strategy would be required in that sector, Zey mused.

Eight armored figures filed into the cramped office, four of them in nearly identical black armor, the other four in purple, green, yellow, and grey. The black figures were interspersed through the procession. All eight held their helmets identically under their left arms.

Niner and Ajax sat down at the desk, the rest stood behind their sergeants.

“What’s the news, General?” Ajax wondered. “Why'd you call us here?”

“The Separatists have arrived here. On Coruscant.”

Familiar, concerned glances were exchanged through the room. Ka'rta with Buckler, Buckler with Darman, Tracker with Corr, Corr with Atin, and Niner with Ajax.

“The Chancellor,” blurted Corr. “Is he safe?”

“The Coruscant Guard has been dispatched and he has been ordered to his personal bunker.”

“I hope he gets there,” said Buckler, his stomach churning at the thought of going to rescue the Supreme Commander. “Save the GAR a nightmarish headache.”

“I hope so, too,” agreed Zey, shifting the topic. “Now, then, to _your_ orders. Omega, we need you to link up with Yayax Squad at Holonet News. You’ll be defending the facility. Questions?”

The four clones in black armor shook their heads, in less synchronization than normal. They were noticeably worried.

“Good.” The Jedi turned to Ajax. “Phi, your task is to hit Grievous’s command ship. Take it out, and then you’ll receive further orders.”

Buckler raised his hand. “Are we supposed to take its critical systems down or make it permanently unusable?”

“Excellent question, thirty-three. Whichever prevents the droid crews from acting as reinforcements for other ships.”

“Understood.” The word choice sure sounded to Buckler like Zey was saying “blow the entire ship up.” _The best order of them all_.

“Well, squads,” Zey ordered, “get to it.”

The two sergeants rose simultaneously and pulled their helmets on in one smooth motion. The six behind them also helmeted up. Suddenly, a tension became palpable in the room. It was a rush of adrenaline, the hormone brought on by the prospect of a new mission.

Buckler and Darman exchanged slaps on the back. It was clear the two had already bonded over their love for explosives.

“I hope to catch up with you after this mission, _ner vod,_ ” Buckler stated.

“So do I, Buck,” replied Darman. “We’ll see each other again.”

“I’m sure,” Buckler replied.

Omega squad exited the small room, without so much as a glance back in. They were leaving to go on their mission. It wouldn’t be so hard. Defense was one of the easiest jobs a squad of special ops troopers could handle. A good soldier could handle almost anything that came at him if he was sufficiently dug in. And Republic Commandos were _excellent_ soldiers.

That left Phi Squad and General Zey, who turned back to his holo. The Separatists were still gaining ground. The fight planetside would not be easy.

Ajax glanced at the holo, then decided it was time to leave. He ushered the rest of his squad out, then turned to exit the small room.

“Ajax?” Zey said.

The sergeant about-faced.

“The shuttle will drop you off one klick from the target. Make sure you have air supply.”

“Will do.”

“I’d like to debrief you personally.”

Ajax saluted. “You can count on us, sir. We’ll be back here.”

With that, the clone turned and walked through the door, not knowing if he would be able to make good on that promise.

###  Ten Years Before Geonosis, Kamino

### 

Kal Skirata stormed through the abnormally white corridors. This latest development would not fly. He thought about his Null boys. No, this idea will not go over with him.

A door slid into the wall in front of the Mandalorian training sergeant. Behind it stood a tall, grey-eyed Kaminoan.

“Can I help you?” the slender alien queried.

Kal simply stormed into the room and tore his gold helmet from his head. “You will _not_ put some kriffing mind-control device in those clones.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nala Se. You’re the _gihaal_ behind the inhibitor chips, aren't you?”

“Yes. I fail to see what this has to do with anything.”

Skirata almost winced at the Kaminoan’s arrogance. “Those chips are going to take away the last bit of humanity in those men. I _forbid_ you to implant them.”

Nala Se just smiled, studying the man’s face. “So _you’re_ the sergeant who keeps interfering with our work.”

Kal just took the insult, clenching his fists a bit tighter. “I knew it was useless to argue,” he conceded. A three-sided knife slipped from the sleeve of his bantha hide jacket into his hand. He raised it to the long neck in front of him. “So I’ll try a more traditional method of persuasion.”

Nala Se stood there, dropping the datapad in her hands, looking positively shocked. For a Kaminoan, that is.

“This won't work,” she insisted.

“Maybe not, but at least you’ll listen,” Kal retorted. “Sit.”

The Kaminoan obeyed, hands raised in a feeble gesture of surrender.

Kal remained standing so he could look the much taller being in the eye. “Those aren't just _products_ out there,” he said, gesturing at the tall columns of growth jars visible through the office windows. “They’re _living beings._ You can't just rob them of their free will with those…” he shuddered slightly at the thought. “...mind-control chips.”

“I beg to differ,” Se interrupted. “Inhibitor chips are proven to make clones more stable. And more loyal soldiers,” she hastily added.

“Loyalty isn't everything,” Kal shot out. “Creativity and freedom of will make the best soldiers.”

“So does mental stability.”

Kal ignored that remark. This was _his_ time to speak, _his_ point to make. “You want loyalty? I’ll show you loyalty. You’re familiar with my Null boys?”

Se nodded. “How could I _not_ know about them? Your _interference_ in the matter _…_ ”

Kal interrupted her. “They’re fiercely loyal. You know why that is?” He didn't wait for a response. “I taught them to be Mando’ade. That made them loyal. And far better fighters than your ‘inhibitors’ could make them.”

“Perhaps, but units grown without…”

“ _No!_ ” the Mandalorian yelled. “ _I will_ not _have you dictating the thoughts of free-thinking men!_ ”

“Perhaps we can reach a compromise,” the Kaminoan suggested gently. “The commando units you are responsible for will be grown without chips.”

“So you’ll forgo giving the commandos inhibitors?” _It does seem reasonable,_ suggested a small voice in the back of Kal’s mind. _Creativity doesn't always make good infantry. But_ always _better commandos._

“Yes. The GI units will have chips, but not the commandos.”

Kal made an angry huffing noise. “Fine. But don't try anything sneaky.” He pressed the knife into the long, snakelike neck of the other. “I _will_ find and gut you if I find you’ve broken your word.” He turned and replaced his helmet. “Not that you have any guts, _gihaal,_ ” he muttered.

### 

###  0630 Hours, 1070 Days ABG, Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

### 

Ka'rta, Buckler, and Tracker were standing in the main hold of an LAAT/i parked on the Arca Barracks landing pad.

“Wonder what Ajax’s holdup is,” Tracker commented.

“Dunno,” replied Buckler. “Maybe he’s just trying to get Zey to give us new orders.”

Ka'rta chuckled doubtfully. “He’s probably sweeping every inch of our quarters to see if we forgot anything.”

“Here he comes now,” said Buckler, trying to make out what their sergeant was carrying. “Looks like he’s got air tanks for us.”

“Huh,” said Tracker. “I guess we’re dropping in from farther out than usual.”

Ajax had linked back into the squad comlink by then. “Yep. We’re going in from a thousand meters.”

“Isn't that a bit far?” wondered Buckler.

The pilot was listening to their comm. “Unless you want me to get ripped to shreds by their turrets,” he commented.

“Right,” Buckler said. “Anti-fighter turrets. Forgot they had those.”

“‘Cause you’ve never flown into them. Let me tell you a little story,” the pilot joked.

“No thanks,” Ajax ordered. “Just fly us up to the drop point.”

“Right-o, Sergeant.”

The trip into space, and to the drop point, took about twenty minutes. Once at the designated coordinates, however, Ajax made sure the squad’s oxygen tanks were securely fastened to their packs and that all had their supply tubes secure.

“These oxygen tubes look _ridiculous,_ ” commented Tracker.

“Yeah, but they keep us alive,” returned Buckler.

“Better ridiculous-looking and alive than suffocating out there,” said Ka'rta wisely.

The gunship doors slid open, revealing a cold, empty vacuum. Space. It didn't seem that empty after very long, though. A soundless battle was raging. Blue and red blasterfire went whizzing by at incredible speeds, both near and far. When Ajax looked down, he saw dozens of Republic and Separatist capital ships, all firing at each other with more blasters than seemed realistic.

Directly below their gunship was a Separatist dreadnought, the _Invisible Hand._ That was their target, cyborg General Grievous’s flagship.

“Let’s go,” ordered Ajax.

“You got it, boss,” Tracker replied, jumping off the gunship.

Buckler promptly followed, himself trailed by Ka'rta. As the yellow shape faded into the distance, Ajax made his jump. He activated his HUD’s “distance to target” indicator and the booster rockets attached to his shin plates. In zero G, he wouldn't get far without those rockets. The distance indicator counted down from a thousand. The numbers started to change faster and faster as the commando accelerated.

The indicator read at three hundred meters. Then Ajax’s HUD started to turn red. A warning flashed at the top of the display. “Oxygen supply disconnected. Reattach right tube. Suffocation in thirty seconds.”

The tube attached to the right side of his helmet had come loose, leaving Ajax without a supply of fresh air. Katarn armor was insulated against vacuum, but there was only so much oxygen available to someone without a supply of more.

“ _Shab!_ ” Ajax cursed. He reached up to grab for the tube that connected to his helmet air intake. As his gloved hand felt around the chin of his helmet, he knocked the loose tube completely off.

“ _Osik!_ ”

Ajax reached back to the oxygen tube to find the loose tube. He couldn't. Reaching at that particular angle was uncomfortable for someone wearing a sleeveless shirt, to say nothing of Katarn armor. Ajax found it virtually impossible to reach that direction.

He looked back up to the red text on his HUD. “Suffocation in twenty-three seconds.”

“Fierfek. I’m running out of air,” he stated. “Find an entry point and get into that ship. Don't wait for me.”

“Got it,” said Buckler, who was standing on the _Invisible Hand’s_ hull with magnetized boots. He pulled a demo charge off of his pack, looking around for an airlock or weak spot in the hull.

“I can stand underneath you and try to reattach the tube when you get down here,” offered Ka'rta. He was immensely worried that Ajax would suffocate and die. What would happen to the squad if Ajax died? _Could I revive him if he suffocates? Can I deal with another dead brother?_ After a few seconds, the medic cleared his mind, the way Bralor had trained him years ago.

“No, get in the ship and complete the objective. I’ll get in there if I can.” Ajax had made up his mind. If he was destined to die, he would. Nothing he said or did now would change his fate. He was certain of that much.

“Okay, boss,” Ka'rta returned.

The distance indicator on Ajax’s HUD read at one hundred meters when he passed out. Warning lights popped up on his HUD, all too late. They were telling him to disengage his boot thrusters. He couldn't.

Ka'rta looked down and saw Ajax’s biometrics on his HUD. The way his heartbeat and respiration were slowing, it looked like he was passed out from lack of oxygen. “Ajax?”

The silence that followed confirmed Ka’rta’s suspicion. He noticed Ajax's thrusters were still engaged. With a couple of eye movements, he was able to override Ajax’s control and shut down the thrusters. Momentum would carry the sergeant the rest of the way.

With less than three seconds, Ka'rta caught Ajax’s limp form and reattached the oxygen tube. The sergeant's vitals improved almost immediately. A few seconds later, he woke. Phi Squad was still invincible.

“Where…” Ajax wondered, his voice weak, “...am I?”

“The _Invisible Hand,_ ” replied Ka'rta, who had activated the magnets in the other’s boots. That way he wouldn't float away from the ship.

“Right.” Ajax looked up to see the cold vacuum above. His voice was already stronger, almost his normal, commanding tone. “Where are the others?”

Buckler answered that query. “About five meters to your left. I found and sliced an airlock over here. Tracker’s inside, waiting for you.”

Ajax smiled. “Good man.” He began to walk over to the indicated airlock, with a little less pep in his step than was normal. Understandably, nearly suffocating to death really took it out of him.

Entry to the ship was easy, compared to most of their missions. All they had to do was slice the airlock without tripping the alarms. It was a blue milk run.

“That was a _lot_ easier than Onderon,” Tracker remarked.

“Yeah,” agreed Ka'rta. “Not as easy as Rothana, though.”

“We didn't have to jump through space on Rothana,” Ajax pointed out. “We’ve got a job to do. Get to it.”

“Aye,” replied Ka'rta. The medic led the way into the Separatist flagship, through corridors that didn't look like they were frequently used. At present, the halls were completely empty of battle droids.

“I don't like this,” Buckler reported. “It’s far too quiet for my tastes.”

The four pressed on, Deeces raised to shoot at anything that moved. They were the only Republic forces on the ship at present. That meant that anything that moved was a threat.

It was starting to look like maybe this ship wasn't such a crucial part of the Separatist offensive. Then Tracker spotted a large form in a corridor up ahead. He scrambled behind the nearest ledge, signaling to the others something was wrong.

“There’s a large tinnie up ahead,” Tracker reported. “Bigger than anything I’ve seen before.”

“This _is_ supposed to be the command ship of General Grievous,” Ajax said.

“From what I’ve heard,” remembered Ka'rta, “Grievous is just a sack of organs inside a droid body. It could be him up ahead.”

“Wait a tick,” said Buckler, peering out from behind his cover, “who’s that behind him? The one in grey robes?”

“That’s the Chancellor!” exclaimed Ajax. “I thought he was going to a bunker of some kind.”

“I guess he never got there,” said Tracker, echoing all their thoughts.

“We should contact General Zey,” Ajax directed. “If the Seps have the Chancellor, I would think they have more droids here than the four of us can handle.”

“Give me a detpack and a reactor core, and I can take out the entire Sep army,” Buckler stated.

“Yeah,” Ajax acknowledged, “but a little more finesse is needed for this one. Chancellor has to get out alive, remember?”

“So we’re leaving this one to the Jedi?” asked Ka'rta.

“We have to.” Ajax then tapped a few controls on his gauntlet, activating the long-range comlink. He tapped in the Arca Barracks com frequency.

Captain Maze, Zey’s ARC assistant, picked up. “What do you need, Ajax?” The Alpha ARC’s voice was very controlled and collected, as it always was.

“I need to speak with General Zey. It’s about the Chancellor.”

“Why don't I route your signal to the Jedi Council? They’ll be better off than Zey hearing about this.”

“As you wish.”

A faint crackle was heard in the audio as Maze rerouted the transmission to the Jedi Temple.

“Fierfek,” swore Ka'rta. “They’re letting us talk to the Council? Must be _really_ important.”

“He’s the Chancellor,” Buckler reminded. “The leader of the Republic. The single most important man in the Galaxy.”

Maze had gotten the Jedi masters’ attention with the communication by then. A hologram of the Council flared into life in Ajax’s glove.

“News of the Chancellor, you have?” the wizened master Yoda croaked.

“Yes,” Ajax replied simply, only faintly aware he appeared in the center of a circle of twelve Jedi Masters. “The Separatists have taken him prisoner aboard General Grievous’s command ship.”

At this, Yoda turned to his number one, Mace Windu. “A grave situation this is. Very delicate.”

“I agree,” was Windu’s reply. “Any thoughts?” he wondered, opening the floor for discussion.

“I think we should send a Master,” Obi-Wan suggested. “Grievous has bested some of our greatest duelists.”

Shaak Ti, a Togruta master who had failed to protect the Chancellor from Grievous, looked downward in shame.

Ki-Adi Mundi stirred. He had fought Grievous at the Battle of Hypori. “I concur. Perhaps someone like you, General Kenobi?”

At this suggestion, Obi-Wan gazed over. He was the focus of all of the gazes in the room, even Ajax’s hologram.

“I could not defeat Grievous alone,” Kenobi stated simply, his words cautiously measured. “It would be best if I recalled Anakin from Mandalore and brought him with me.”

Windu looked a bit uncomfortable at the suggestion. “I’m not so convinced Skywalker is the right choice. Ever since his Padawan left, he’s gotten dangerously close to the Dark Side. _I_ should go with you.”

Yoda bent forward in his chair, leaning onto his gimer stick. “Master Windu, together, the best we have to offer Skywalker and Kenobi are. Agree with Obi-Wan, I do.”

Windu made an uncomfortable expression. “It is settled, then.”

Ajax had watched the exchange with muted interest. It seemed to him that Jedi politics were tearing the Order apart from the inside.

“Excuse me, Generals, but what about my squad?” wondered the sergeant.

Yoda turned back to the hologram of the commando in the center of the room. “Evacuate, you will. Take care of the Chancellor, _we_ will. Worry about it, do not.”

Ajax saluted the circle of Jedi and disconnected the comlink.

“You heard him, boys,” Ajax said, with much less vigor than normal, “we’re getting out of here. Shift it.”

Ajax hadn't yelled the command as he normally did. That made Ka'rta worried about him. He requested a private comlink with Ajax. The notification popped up in the sergeant's helmet, a request to speak privately. He accepted.

“What’s wrong, Aje?” asked the medic. “Were you not expecting to wake up after your hose disconnected?”

“Something like that,” Ajax grumbled back. His tone began to lighten. “I was so ready to die back there. And then I woke up with you standing over me. It just felt a little bit…” the thought trailed off for a few seconds. “...like I was cheating or something.”

“It’s been a long war, Ajax,” Ka'rta consoled. “Three standard years, six biological years for us.”

“Yeah,” Ajax replied, quietly. “I’m just so ready for it to be over.”

“I know, Aje. I know.”

***

It was a long walk for the four clones to the _Invisible Hand’s_ hangar bay. Somehow, they were able to board the turbolift and get down to within a deck of the hangar without much trouble.

“All the droids must be occupied trying to protect their prisoner,” Tracker mused, thinking about how quiet their trip had been. “It’s nice not having to look over my shoulder through iron sights every two paces.”

“I’m just worried about internal sensors picking us up,” Ajax said. He had started feeling better after confessing his “death wish” to Ka’rta.

“I don't think they’re checking _internal_ sensors,” Buckler said hopefully. “They aren't aware we were already here. Their only concern is _new_ infiltrators.”

“Let’s hope that’s true,” said Ajax.

A few paces later, the four discovered that their hopes were in vain. A ray shield activated, surrounding them. It was projected from the ceiling.

“Fierfek,” some combination of two voices swore.

“Try blasting the shield projector,” Ajax advised. “It might not be protected by the shield.”

“Good thinking, boss,” said Buckler, raising his blaster. He fired two shots. “No effect.”

“Blast,” the sergeant swore. “This space is too small to try blasting our way out with explosives.”

Tracker stared intently at the floor. “The shield doesn't come around under us. If we could somehow force an explosion directly into the floor…”

“Then we could get out of here without killing ourselves,” finished Ajax. “Great thinking!”

Tracker smiled embarrassedly, grateful for the static faceplate of his helmet.

Buckler was already working on the solution, unclipping his survival pack from his armor. “This pack is made from the same blast-resistant material as our armor. If I position the opening just right, it should protect us from the blast, while directing enough energy downward to blow a hole in the floor. Kind of like a shaped charge.”

“Good man,” smiled Ajax.

As soon as Buckler had started working on their exit strategy, he looked up from his work. The steady beat of droids’ clanking, metallic footsteps was faint in the distance. Ajax frowned.

“Any time now, Buck,” the sergeant said, patient yet forceful.

“I’m working as fast as I can,” returned the demoman, panicked and apologetic.

The precisely timed footsteps of the approaching droids were still getting louder, nearly deafening by that point. The droids were just around the corner.

“Ready to detonate, boss,” Buckler reported.

“Anytime you like. Soon, preferably.”

With that command, Buckler pressed the detonator. The first of the droids had rounded the corner. A moment later, there was a hole in the floor large enough to fit a man through. Buckler threw a rope through the hole, and slid down into the pipe below. He was followed by Tracker, then Ka'rta, and lastly, Ajax.

“Well,” Ajax reported, “they know we’re here and they’ll be able to tell where we are unless we mask ourselves from the sensors somehow.”

“I can use the comm to create a jamming signal,” Buckler suggested.

“Sounds like the best option,” Ajax agreed. “Get on it.”

“They might be able to track the signal,” Buckler admitted. “I’ll have to leave my antenna here.”

“And we haven't got time to pull it out of your helmet,” Ajax said. “We’re leaving the helmet behind and making it out of here in a shuttle.”

“At least we’re only a deck up,” commented Tracker. “With our luck, we could be _ten_ decks up.”

“If those deck plans I sliced are accurate,” observed Buckler. He took off his helmet and placed it on the bottom of the ventilation shaft. “Jamming signal active. Let’s get out of here.”

As Phi Squad crawled through the narrow pipe, they heard the ray shield that had trapped them deactivate. Then, a thermal detonator-shaped object dropped through the hole. A cloud of smoke issued from it.

“They’re trying to smoke us out!” Ka'rta exclaimed. “We have to move before that smoke catches up to Buckler.”

“It’s only ten more meters,” Buckler consoled. “I can make it that far.”

Carefully paced crawling turned to a cramped shuffling as the squad hurried towards their hangar objective. The smoke crept toward them, with it the promise of suffocation for Buckler. The rest, wearing their helmets, would be unaffected by the smoke.

The smoke was creeping around Buckler’s boots when he finally reached the air vent leading to the hangar. He punched the grate out of the wall and dropped two meters to the floor of the hangar. There was a shuttle on the other side of the cavernous room.

“There it is,” Buckler announced. “Our ride out of here.”

“If we can get over there in time,” Ajax stipulated. “Looks like there are some security droids headed our way.” He looked over at a nearby open door, flanked by two rows of red-shouldered battle droids.

“This ought to keep them off our backs for a while,” Buckler returned, tossing an EC grenade at the approaching droids. “That blew up real good.”

“Can't count on it delaying them much,” Ajax argued. “Double time to that shuttle!”

Phi Squad began to run toward the shuttle, even as blaster fire began pressuring them away. However, droids were programmed to point and shoot, not take out suspected enemy objectives. They weren't smart enough to destroy the shuttle.

Tracker split off from the group to fire back. He downed half a dozen droids before turning back around and running past the shuttle. He distracted some of the droids with this maneuver, which proceeded to fire at him. The sniper eventually made it back around to the shuttle, where the rest were waiting.

Ka'rta sat at the helm, ready to lift off. He flicked a few switches above his head, then brought his hand down to the throttle in front of him. The shuttle began to pull off the ground, the boarding ramp retracting and the doors sliding shut.

“You might want to strap in,” the pilot-medic suggested. “I haven't flown one of these Sep shuttles yet. Might get a little bumpy.”

Ajax grabbed ahold of some cargo webbing, motioning for the others to do the same. They grabbed hold.

The four were lucky the attacking B1s’ targeting sensors were slightly miscalibrated. Any better targeting on the droids’ part, and their shuttle would have been permanently grounded.

Ka'rta was madly flicking switches on his consoles. “Looks like those droids took out our stabilizers. I’m going to have to set down real soon.”

Buckler took that to mean he needed to get the transponder fixed so it transmitted a Republic frequency. He crept towards the copilot’s station, holding fast to the cargo net.

“You’re not setting down on any Republic vessel if I don't change the transponder frequency,” the slicer announced.

“Well, then, by all means,” Ka'rta invited. “I’m setting this ship down as soon as I possibly can. In a Republic hangar.”

“I know,” replied Buckler, working furiously. “Almost got it.”

“Hurry the _shab_ up or we get blasted to pieces by that Venator!”

###  1400 Hours, Senate Building, Coruscant

“I must commend you four in some way,” spoke Sheev Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. “I owe my life and continued work as Chancellor to your quick thinking back there on the _Invisible Hand._ For this, I present to you, Phi Squad of Arca Company, Special Operations Brigade, the Medallion of Honor.”

Ajax stood there, in front of his squad, battle-scarred, purple-striped helmet tucked carefully under his left arm. He looked shocked.

The squad behind him had varying degrees of disbelief etched on their faces. Despite the surprise, their collective posture remained ramrod straight. After all, the four were being addressed by their Supreme Commander, the Chancellor.

“With all due respect, sir,” Ajax began, his eyes locked straight forward, a tear beginning to glimmer in his gaze, “I can think of men more deserving this honor than I,” he finished flatly. From the tear in his eye, now flowing down his cheek, those closest to him could tell he was talking about Ca'ad.

General Zey stood to Ajax’s right, flanked closely by Captain Maze. Ajax’s announcement had utterly shocked him. The general discreetly nudged Ajax, as if saying, “Are you crazy? This is the highest honor you can receive.”

Maze smirked slightly, knowing Ajax was quite uncomfortable with the honor. He would have been, too, had the medal been presented to him.

Palpatine shrugged off the response, as though he was expecting some such modesty. “Ah, yes. Your late brother Ca’ad. He will be the posthumous recipient of a Golden Heart for his actions on Carlac.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ajax replied, several more hot tears streaking his face. “But I only did as I was trained.”

Palpatine disregarded this comment as well, proceeding to affix the Medallion of Honor on the sergeant's left breastplate. “My dear boy, take this medallion in honor of your lost brother. Take it for _me,_ your Supreme Commander,” he muttered such that only Ajax heard. No matter how hard he tried, Ajax couldn't help but think the Chancellor’s lips had remained firmly clasped the entire time.

“RC-8233, step forward,” the Chancellor commanded.

Buckler stepped up to Ajax’s left, keeping his gaze firmly locked forward. He noticed the tears on his sergeant's face as he, too, received a Medallion of Honor. For the first time, the slicer let his gaze drift. Stuck to his left breastplate with a magnet was a scarlet ribbon, attached to a golden medallion bearing the familiar eight-spoked insignia of the Republic.

“RC-5280, step forward.”

Ka'rta stepped out next to Buckler to receive his medallion. The Chancellor affixed it in the same way he had Ajax’s and Buckler’s. His face, too, was streaked with tears.

Before Palpatine had time to speak Tracker’s number, the sniper was standing next to Ka'rta, face devoid of emotion.

Ka'rta noticed the extremely stoic expression of the other and thought, _Fierfek. I thought we weren't supposed to be droids. Maybe that crazy ARC from the 501st was onto something with that ‘inhibitor chip’ conspiracy theory._

“RC-9726, step forward,” said the Chancellor, in his deep, humorless ceremonial voice.

Tracker took a half step forward, so as not to disobey the command nor to get in the Chancellor’s path. His gaze, unlike Buckler’s, did not waver in the slightest as Palpatine affixed his medal. When the Chancellor was finished with that, the sniper stepped back into his squad’s line.

As Palpatine stepped backwards, Ajax and the rest raised their hands to their brows in a unison, ceremonial salute. The Chancellor nodded slowly, the signal to finish the salute and a gesture of dismissal.

Phi Squad gracefully replaced their helmets and about-faced before marching out of Palpatine’s utterly crimson office.

***

A half hour later, the exhausted Phi Squad arrived back at Arca Company Barracks, where Omega Squad was waiting.

“Heard the Chancellor was quite grateful you spotted him on that command ship,” called Darman, gesturing to the medals worn by the four. “Never heard of a _clone_ getting one of those before. All we ever got were those _shabla_ graduation medals on Kamino.”

Buckler grinned. “Jealous?”

Darman punched him, softly, to show his affection. “You know me, don't you?”

“I do,” Buckler answered, punching the other back. “You _are_ jealous.”

“Not,” replied Darman, with another friendly punch. “Well, okay, maybe a little.” His smile faded a bit.

Buckler noticed the change in tone. “Hey. It’s just a medal. I didn't ask for it. I would rather have left it on the Chancellor’s desk.” He unfastened the medal.

“You didn't,” sulked Darman. “Someone like Fi should have got that medal. His sacrifice on Gaftikar was more than _you_ ever did.”

Buckler stammered, at a loss for words. “You seriously expect me to have just taken it off my chest plate and given it back to him? You don't just tell the _osikla_ Chancellor you're not worthy. If it was up to me, I’d give the whole kriffing army one of these. Here.” Buckler shoved the medal, in his gloved fist, over to his friend, who eyeballed it for a long moment. “Take it. You deserve it as much as I do. Or get Kal to take it to Fi, wherever he is.”

It was Darman’s turn to stutter incoherently. “Serious?”

Buckler opened his fist. The scarlet ribbon and gold medallion looked tantalizing to Darman. He almost reached out and snatched it from his friend. Then he decided not to.

“I-I can’t. The Chancellor gave it to _you_. You deserve it.” Darman had been impressed by his friend’s humility. Having lived among clones his whole life, he knew it was an honest trait. When you lived among those who were physically identical to you, you tended to recognize the sacrifices of your brothers. You tended to be more willing to make sacrifices to your brothers.

Buckler’s fist soon reclosed, showing Darman the conversation was over. Jealousy never got anyone anything.

The two turned their backs to each other, and walked to separate sides of the parade grounds. Waiting on each side were the two’s respective squads. As he walked, Buckler reaffixed the scarlet ribbon to his two-tone green breastplate. His armor wasn't pristine, though. Hadn't been for many long years. His squad began to file into the hallway, towards their quarters. Then Tracker spotted a familiar bantha-hide jacket hiding gold _beskar'gam_.

“ _Kal’buir!_ ” the sniper shouted, turning to run toward the short, grey-haired figure. Apparently, even a year of training under Kal made you bond with him. He had that kind of fatherly effect. Even the rest of Phi viewed him as a father, and trusted him with their lives.

“Tracker,” the short Mandalorian stated, opening his arms wide in an embrace. Tracker ran into his arms, to have his hair ruffled paternally.

Ka'rta smiled, remembering how Bralor would always ruffle his hair. He wondered who had picked the gesture up from whom, whether it was first Kal’s thing or Bralor’s. He soon decided it wasn't important and headed over to talk to _Kal’buir._ He was recognized by the old father-sergeant almost immediately.

“Ka'rta,” recognized Kal. “It’s nice to see you.”

Ka'rta grinned in reply. “You too.”

Skirata grinned back. “I was expecting you to ask about Rav,” he stated boldly.

“I was going to get to good old Sergeant Bralor later.”

“She’s not old,” Kal said, in an almost cautioning tone. “ _I’m_ old.”

“So, how _is_ our _buir?_ ”

“I thought you said you were coming back around to that,” Kal teased.

Ordo stepped next to Kal from a few paces behind and whispered something in his ear. The old man frowned.

“Excuse me,” Kal said to Tracker and Ka'rta. “ _Ord’ika_ tells me Omega needs me to go talk with them. Oh, Ajax?” The old sergeant leaned out to see Ajax. “Niner’s asked you to come.”

Ajax turned from his conversation with Buckler to follow Kal.

As Skirata left, Ordo didn't immediately turn to follow him, as was his habit. “Ka'rta, I never got to tell you I thought what you did back at Geonosis was incredibly brave. I _still_ haven't seen something as _atinla_ as that.”

Ka’rta almost blushed. It had been three years since he had tried and failed to disarm that bomb. “Thanks, Ordo,” the medic said simply, not knowing any other words for the moment.

The captain saluted the Medallion of Honor recipient and turned to follow Kal.

***

Niner was sitting in his squad’s quarters, drumming his fingers absently on the table in front of him. He was nervous because Kal and Ajax were taking a little too long. That, or Ordo had taken too long to deliver his summons…

The door to Omega Squad’s quarters flew open with a rush of wind. In walked Kal and Ajax. The two looked around, seeing only Niner. Kal opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Niner.

“I sent the others to the mess. Thought I’d talk to the two of you alone,” Niner explained. “About the end of the war.”

Skirata decided he should say something. “Don’t feel obligated to leave the army,” he urged. “But I just bought a nice piece of land on Mandalore. Quiet, out of the way.…” he turned to Ajax. “Rav’s there, too. I’m sure she’ll…”

Ajax cut the old sergeant off. “Niner and I talked a few weeks ago. The end is coming, and we’re going to desert. This war has been long enough for us.”

Kal nodded, respectful of the others’ decision. “You need to talk to your squads about this. Don’t force everyone to come with you. Just make sure they know my door will _always_ be open for a clone who wants to come in.”

Ajax and Niner nodded in agreement.

“Now that’s settled,” Ajax said, “I’ll go sort it with my squad.” He turned to exit, putting his helmet back on.

Right as Ajax left, Ordo strode in. “ _Kal’buir?_ ” he asked.

Kal turned to face his adopted son. “Yes, _Ord’ika?_ ”

“There’s a matter General Zey wishes to discuss.” It was the only way Ordo could think of to get Kal out of the room. The two needed to get back to Kyrimorut. Fi was doing better, according to the latest report.

“Well, then, let’s not keep him waiting.”

***

Ajax strolled back to his quarters, a million things on his mind. Foremost, though, was the end of the war. He knew it was coming, after three abnormally long years. He was thinking about how his squad would react to the idea of defection. It would mean seeing Bralor again, but they wouldn't be able to do much to make money, as in bounty hunting, without giving up the Clan. The door slid aside in front of him, revealing his squad, chatting relaxedly.

“What's up, Ajax?” Ka'rta asked immediately. He noticed Ajax’s preoccupied expression the moment he had walked in.

“It’s about the end of the war. When it’s over, I’d like to defect to Kal.”

The other three murmured in agreement. “We’d been talking about it, too. When this war finally ends, we’ll go with you to Mandalore,” agreed Tracker. “All of us.”

“I hope Bralor got the invite,” commented Buckler. “It’ll be good to see our old sergeant again.”

“I know she did,” Ajax confirmed. “Kal told me so.”

Buckler and Ka'rta smiled when they heard that. “It’s good to know our old sergeant is still around somewhere.”

Thoughts of Bralor brought feelings of home, but there was also something unsettling about it. The last time they’d seen Bralor was right after Ca’ad had died. Buckler was most affected by the connection. He glanced over at the black armor plates in the corner and a tear rolled down his cheek. The pain was still fresh, even two years later. There was no real peace yet for Buckler. It had all just been delayed by the intermittent surges of combat.

Ka'rta put a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,_ ” he told his brother. Not gone, merely marching far away. The Mando words of comfort didn't seem to help Buckler’s mood.

“ _Cuy ogir’olar_ ,” Buckler replied. The sentiment was irrelevant in his eyes, at least for the moment.

“ _Partayli aay’han, ner vod,_ ” Ajax replied. Remember that mourning is irrelevant.

Buckler huffed angrily. “ _Ba’slan solus. Nar’sheb._ ” Shove off.

Ajax backed away, raising his hands as in surrender. “ _Gar vercopa._ ” Your wish.

A few days passed without fanfare before anything happened other than the occasional debate and bet on their next mission. It was almost a week before anything of note happened. That event was Delta Squad returning from the combat zone on Kashyyyk. There was something strange about their return. Scorch wasn't wisecracking, and Fixer wasn't telling him off for it. The team was also missing the occasional sassy remark from Sev.

Ajax walked over to them, accompanied by Niner. “Where’s Sev?” he asked, a bit worried.

Scorch stammered a few times before starting to cry a bit. “We… just….” the thought trailed off.

Boss’s deeper and stronger voice finished. “We were ordered to abandon him. Master Yoda himself. I don't care if the whole bloody invasion would have failed. Sev ought to be worth more than that. We’re _not_ just _disposable,_ are we?”

Niner reached over with a comforting hand. “I’m so sorry, Boss. You, too, Scorch.”

Even Fixer wasn't his normal austere self. “Blasted tinnies. They probably killed him out there.”

“Have a little faith,” Ka'rta directed. “He was one of us, wasn't he? I think he might have survived.”

“I doubt it,” replied Fixer. “His last comm.…” It was Fixer’s turn to break off with tears. He wasn't always tough as permacrete after all.

“Sorry,” Boss said to his old friends. “We just need to figure this out alone for a while.”

Ajax nodded and led Niner and their squads away. General Etain Tur-Mukan, just back from the lines, started to run up towards Darman, hugging him when she got there. Darman hugged back, looking to Niner for approval. His sergeant nodded in approval, and the two left into Galactic City.

###  2000 Hours, 1,089 Days ABG, Coruscant

### 

The last week had been a long haul for Phi, Omega, and Delta. Darman was the only one in a better-than-melancholy mood. And that was only because Etain was back in town.

Something seemed to be quite wrong, other than the fact they were staying at the barracks so long. Radio chatter seemed to indicate a situation at the Chancellor’s office. Ajax thought he’d heard a pilot report shuttling Mace Windu and a few other Jedi Council members to the Senate building.

It had been a long day for Ajax and his squad. He decided it best to sleep. Buckler was already sleeping, and the rest were in bed. It was shaping up to be a restful night.

***

An hour or two later, Ajax woke with a start. Something had happened. Something big. A voice sounded in his head. The Chancellor’s voice, as clear as if the sound was coming through a helmet comm. But Ajax wasn't wearing his helmet.

“Execute Order 66,” said the crackly Sith’s voice.

 _Jedi,_ Ajax thought. _The Jedi are now enemies of the Republic. Fierfek. I don't think I can kill a Jedi. Wait, is this even happening? I’m not wearing my helmet. How could a comm get through to me?_ He remembered the medal ceremony, where Palpatine had spoken without moving his lips. Ajax picked up his gauntlet, looking for a new communication. Sure enough, there was one. With the encryption code of the Supreme Chancellor. _Oh, no._

The other three stirred in their sleep, before waking suddenly.

Buckler spoke. “Was that a dream? I heard Order 66.”

Ka'rta replied, “I had the same dream.”

Ajax waved his gauntlet, with the message inscribed on it by a hologram. “It’s true.” He glanced out the south-facing window, towards the Jedi Temple. It was aglow with flame, against the dark sky. “Look.”

Tracker was already up and with his armor on. _Good soldiers follow orders,_ he thought _._

Ka'rta turned to face Tracker. “What’s up?” he asked. “This isn't our problem. Besides, we don't have to actively hunt Jedi, just shoot those we see. And we can always say we didn't see them anyways.” Seeing Tracker move towards the door, he blocked it. “This _isn't_ our problem. You don't have to do this.”

Tracker raised his Deece, pointing it at his brother. “RC-5280, you’re in my way.” His accent had changed under the control of his inhibitor chip. He now sounded like any rank-and-file clone. “Step aside.”

Buckler joined the medic. “Ka'rta's right. It isn't our problem.”

Tracker reaimed his blaster. “Good soldiers follow orders, RC-8233. Step _aside._ ”

Ajax finally decided which side he was on and moved to block Tracker. “I’m your superior officer, Tracker. I’m ordering you to _stand down_ and disregard that contingency order. You said it yourself. ‘Good soldiers follow orders.’”

“You are correct, RC-3608.” Tracker hadn't said “You’re right, boss.” Something must have been terribly wrong with him to point a blaster at his squadmates. For a brief moment, it looked like he had a flash of conflict, like the inhibitor had lost its control. Tracker shook the conflict off. _Good soldiers follow orders,_ he reminded himself. He pointed the blaster at his sergeant. “You’re not complying with the order. That means you’re a traitor to the Republic, same as the Jedi.” The sniper prepared to shoot, taking his rifle off safety and practicing his breath control. The inhibitor must not have had full control yet, because he didn't shoot immediately. “Good soldiers follow orders,” he breathed, repeating the phrase several times.

Ajax thought this would be a good time for a bright idea. “Ka'rta, Buckler, step aside. Let the good man pass.”

Ka'rta stared in disbelief for a second, believing the same thing had happened to Ajax as had happened to Tracker.

Ajax winked, showing this was all just part of the plan.

Ka'rta stepped to the side of the door, showing his arm in a gesture of “go ahead.”

Tracker immediately lowered his rifle and exited the room. He had stopped chanting his mantra.

Ajax started snapping on his armor plates. “Come on. We haven't got any time to lose. We have to stop him one way or another.”

“Just _don't_ kill him,” Ka'rta pleaded. “He’s a good man. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. Arm non-lethal PEP laser.”

Ajax followed his brother’s directive. Buckler didn't.

“We don't have a stun setting on the blaster attachment,” Ajax noted. “Why aren't you switching?”

“Don't you see?” Buckler asked his squad. “If we go out there with stun blasters, Tracker will know something’s up. Order 66 specifies lethal force. We have to keep our blasters on ‘kill.’”

Ajax realized Buckler was right. Begrudgingly, so did Ka'rta.

“So we shoot our brother in the leg or something?” Ka'rta finally asked.

“Kill him if we have to.” Buckler hadn't been talking like that since Rothana. He thought Tracker was a lost cause. “I don’t think he’ll be on our side ever again.”

Tracker came back to the squad quarters, practically skipping. “Maze just got Zey. I heard the blast with my own ears. Our work here in the barracks is done.”

The helmet comm crackled, in the particular way orders from HQ did.

Palpatine’s voice came through. “I have already ordered my new apprentice and the 501st to the Jedi Temple,” he declared. “But they are not able to finish the job. I need you, Phi Squad, to infiltrate the Temple and eliminate any other survivors.”

“Everyone?” wondered Ajax. “Even the younglings?”

“Wipe them out,” Palpatine answered. “All of them.”

“Sir, yes, _sir._ ” The order didn't seem like something Ajax would so easily comply with. _It’s the best way we can get Jedi out of there,_ he reasoned.

Palpatine’s comlink crackled back into oblivion. The Chancellor wouldn't hear any more of their conversation.

“Let’s find some transport over to the Temple,” Ajax ordered before cutting Tracker out of the comlink. “Ka'rta, Buckler, I hope you know we’re not going over there to kill Jedi. We’re going in so we can save a few.”

“Oh, good,” Ka'rta said, relieved. “I was worried we’d lost you there for a second.”

***

Phi Squad was greeted by none other than General Skywalker, freshly dubbed Darth Vader. He was no longer a Jedi, judging from the yellowed hue of his eyes.

Tracker immediately saluted.

Vader nodded imperceptibly at the gesture, then turned to Ajax. “There is a cell of Jedi insurgents hiding in the West Tower. I can sense them, but my scouts have reported nothing. Find the hiding Jedi.”

“Yes, sir,” Ajax responded simply.

The four left the Temple entrance for the West Tower. On the way there, the floor was littered with robed corpses. Few were holding their lightsabers. Most had their weapons still attached to their belts. The massacre had happened suddenly and without any warning.

“All these bodies,” Buckler said, shocked at the heinous atrocity they were witnessing.

“Still warm on infrared,” Ajax noted.

The four soon reached the turbolift that would lead them into the communications tower. It made sense that the Jedi would hide there. They would have a chance of transmitting a message.

Ajax looked around the elevator towards his sniper. “Tracker, I need you to stay here and guard the turbolift, make sure we don't miss them if they go out this way.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready,” replied the foreign voice of their comrade. He was practically beaming at the prospect of some action.

The turbolift stopped on the top level of the tower. The communications center. The three except Tracker went into the room, a veritable treasure trove of holodisplays and military data. Other than the soft blue light of holograms, the room was dark. The three turned on their spot-lamps to give the room some light.

“Buck, get your life-form scanner,” Ajax ordered. “Everyone, holster your weapons and secure grenades. We don't want the Jedi to spook.”

Buckler pulled a small device from his belt, one that looked like a flashlight with a holodisplay on its back. The slicer turned it on, producing a blue, conical holographic scanning beam. He scanned the room from top to bottom. “Nothing yet, boss.” A red dot appeared on the display. “Wait a tick. Got something over here, under the holoprojector.”

Ajax turned on his external audio system and crouched next to the table Buckler had indicated. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.” He noticed a grate, with a small child, no older than seven, cowering in fear. “I promise,” he said, open palms held out in a gesture of peace.

“Boss,” Buckler yelled, “behind you!”

There was a teenage Padawan running towards the sergeant, lightsaber raised. He was yelling fiercely. “ _Never trust a clone!_ ”

The next few moments were utterly laced with fear for Ajax. He was lucky Ka'rta could switch weapon attachments in one swift movement.

The next moment, the Padawan was writhing in pain on the ground. The PEP laser might not have been lethal, but it hurt like a bantha stampede.

“We didn't kill you immediately,” Ajax calmly explained to the youngling. “Order 66 specifies lethal force. Ka'rta, open a secure comm to Kal’buir. Tell him where to pick us up. Buck, keep scanning.”

The two nodded in unison and did as they were told.

The Padawan on the floor was now in far less pain, but looked quite hurt.

“Sorry about that,” Ajax apologized, sitting on the floor next to the young Jedi. “He was acting on instinct to protect me.” Ajax gestured to Ka'rta, working furiously at a holoprojector. “Are there more than just the two of you around here?”

The Padawan crossed his arms, still distrustful.

Ajax sighed in exasperation. “I’ll take off my helmet if that makes you feel any better.”

The Padawan nodded reluctantly.

Ajax removed the offending item, and proceeded to demonstrate his peacefulness by placing his blaster next to it, at the edge of his reach.

“We have to find and get your friends out of here before the others kill them, okay?” the sergeant said, trying to ease the atmosphere of distrust.

The Padawan finally came to the conclusion he could trust Ajax, and said, “There are five more of us on the lower level. Please tell me you can get them out, too.”

“We’ll do our best.” Ajax stood up, vowing silently to get the other Jedi out of the Temple. “How well are they hiding?” he asked, wondering if the kid knew where his friends really were.

The Padawan looked deep in concentration for a moment, then declared, “They’re hidden in an air vent just below you. Should I cut the way out?” the teen asked, igniting his lightsaber with a smile.

“Sure,” Ajax said absently. He was far too used to confirming requests like that. Typically, they came from Buckler. The sergeant holstered his Deece and replaced his helmet, then turned to Ka'rta, who was speaking to a hologram of Kal. The old man was seated, in what looked like a cockpit.

“...I can be there in a minute or two,” reported Kal. “I’m just at the Shinarcan bridge extension waiting for Etain and Omega. I’ll get you boys ASAP. Top level, you said?”

“That’s right,” Ka'rta answered. “Western tower, top level.” The medic sighed deeply. “I hope we can drop off these Jedi somewhere on the way to Mandalore.”

“I think I know a place,” Kal assured the medic. His ship sure was becoming a stopping point for all kinds of strays.

“Thanks. See you shortly.” Ka'rta tapped a button and the transmission ended.

Ajax smiled. “This plan might just work to perfection,” he gloated.

“I sure hope so,” said Buckler, helping the younglings out of the air vent below. “It would be nice if things finally went off without a hitch.”

“Would someone please slice a hole in the wall so we can get on our ride out of here?” Ajax said, to no one in particular.

The Padawan who had charged him earlier immediately tapped the control on his saber and began cutting. Not long after he’d finished, a sleek DeepWater-class submersible flew up to the hole.

Ordo stood on the top of the craft, dubbed Aay'han, to usher people inside. “Let’s move!” he ordered. “We can't float here all day.”

The six younglings and their Padawan protector jumped the half-meter gap from the wall to the ship in quick succession. Just as Ka'rta was preparing to go through the hole, a door slid open behind them. The turbolift. The three clones turned sharply to face it. Tracker stepped out, accompanied by Vader, whose blue lightsaber was on and raised. The Sith was prepared to block any blaster bolts they tried to shoot at him.

Nonetheless, the commandos began laying down cover fire for their rescuees’ escape. Vader deflected every blast, and Tracker even began to shoot their direction. The fact that he couldn't choose a target didn't help his aim. In fact, he missed every shot. Not that a DC-17m could even dent Katarn armor, though.

Ordo was unholstering his own weapon at that point, and providing cover fire for the three clones. “Come on, shift it!”

“We can't leave Tracker!” Ka'rta yelled, quite conflicted about leaving his brother behind. They had made a promise to desert _together._ Ka'rta wasn't keen to break that promise.

“We don't have time!” Ordo yelled back. “Get over here, or we’re leaving you, too!”

Reluctantly, Ka’rta lowered his Deece and made the jump. Buckler and Ajax followed him very quickly, and they descended through the dorsal airlock on the vessel, into the crowded cargo hold.

The hold wasn't as crowded as they'd expected, though.

“Where’re Niner, Darman, and Etain?” Buckler asked Atin.

“Etain’s dead,” Atin pronounced, not bothering to look over at Buckler. He was gazing at Corr, who had been put in binders because of his inhibitor chip. “And Niner got hurt. Darman went with him.”

Buckler raised his eyebrows in shock. The expression was obscured by his helmet. “Fierfek.” It was the only thing he could say. The only thing _any_ of them could say.

Ordo swooped down through the airlock, his kama flipping up behind him as he fell. “Everyone’s here, Kal’buir. Let’s get out of here.” The door in the top of the vessel slid shut behind him.

A disembodied voice floated down from the cockpit. “Okay, Ord’ika. Next stop, Alderaan.”

The ship pulled away from the hole, and when Buckler looked out the aft viewport, he saw Tracker readying anti-armor, ready to blow his former brothers, but especially the Jedi they were helping, into oblivion. Vader stood next to him, his fearsome blue blade returning to the hilt. The Sith turned on his heel, and gestured for Tracker to follow. Somewhat reluctantly, it seemed, the sniper complied with the gesture, following his master back into the depths of the Jedi Temple. Perhaps the clone had remembered his promise to desert. Maybe he just wanted to kill the Jedi on the ship, and the rest were collateral damage.

The ride to Alderaan was spent in various stages and intensities of shock, anger, and primarily, grief. Part of it was the fact that almost none of them knew what civilian life was. Omega had had a brief taste on Coruscant in the second year of the war, but that was nothing like true civilian life. They had been trying to stop a Separatist terror cell. It would be a hard adjustment anywhere else in the Galaxy. At least the warriors on Mandalore would understand. Then again, they might just want to turn in the clone deserters to Palpatine. Rumors had already begun to spread of his reorganization of the Republic into a Galactic Empire. That man was _desperate_ to stay in power, now that the war was over.

Hours later, Aay'han emerged from hyperspace. Alderaan looked quite beautiful this time of year, Ajax noted. As they descended, it was like watching the oceans of Kamino, except the waves were of amber grain, not cold, dark water. The trees were also brilliant shades of yellow and orange, in response to the changing weather.

Aay’han descended into a forest of a different kind, however: permacrete and durasteel. They landed in the city of Aldera, the planet’s capital. Bail Organa was waiting for them on the landing platform. He was flanked by two CTs and an RC.

Kal paid the soldiers no mind as he descended the landing ramp. In fact, those three were the main reason he had come to Aldera. The clones in the hold reacted a little differently.

“Did Senator Organa betray us?” wondered Buckler. “Those clones probably won’t see us as friends.”

“They might have had their inhibitor chips removed,” remarked Ka’rta. “I don’t think someone like Senator Organa would betray the Jedi. There are rumors he tried to extract some from the Temple himself.”

Kal said something to Organa, and gestured to the Jedi children on the landing ramp. The Senator nodded, and beckoned for the children to follow him. Their Padawan leader looked to Ajax, who nodded. It was amazing the amount of trust built in the heat of battle. Kal invited the three clones into Aay’han.

It had been a fairly quiet “rescued persons exchange,” but all the people involved were going to places where they would fit in better.

Kal introduced the three soldiers Organa had taken in. “Phi, Omega, I want you to meet Captain Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Captain Gregor.”

Buckler shifted his sidearm. “How do we know we can trust them?” he asked, wary of his brothers. He felt betrayed, especially because of what had happened to Tracker.

The one in front, with blue markings on his armor, answered by taking off his helmet. “You see this scar?” he asked, gesturing to an inch-long cut on his temple. “If not for my brother Fives, you _wouldn’t_ be able to trust us.” Rex still hated Commander Fox for shooting a good man like Fives. “His sacrifice taught us a lot about ourselves. The three of us removed our chips at his suggestion.”

Buckler eased up. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…” the thought trailed off for a moment. “...I lost a squadmate to his chip. If we’d heard.…” The thought that Tracker could have been saved was almost as bad as the fact that he hadn’t stopped Ca’ad’s bacta habit.

The three newcomers boarded Aay’han, making the hold even more crowded than it had been before.

“Ord’ika,” Kal called, “close the hatch and get us out of here.”

“Yes, Kal’buir,” the ARC replied.

The boarding ramp flipped shut and Aay’han left Alderaan. The Jedi children would grow up there, always hunted by the Empire. Tracker would be ordered to execute them three months later.

###  1700 Hours, 1,090 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

Aay'han landed in a discreet clearing near the Clan Skirata home, Kyrimorut. A small crowd stood there to greet the newcomers.

The one person that caught Ajax’s eye, though, was Rav Bralor, standing there in her black _beskar'gam._

“Sarge!” the clone sergeant yelled, rushing down the boarding ramp to greet Bralor.

Buckler and Ka'rta were close on his heels, but the three didn't quite make it to Bralor. A familiar face stepped in front of them. A clone’s.

“Where're Niner and Darman?” wondered Fi, who had once been in Omega Squad. According to Republic records, he had been pronounced brain-dead. An ex-Jedi Jusik had nursed the commando back to health.

“They couldn't make it,” answered Atin. He was restraining a struggling Corr nearby. Corr’s inhibitor chip had been triggered, but Niner had clipped his brother in binders so they could all go to Kyrimorut together. _That plan worked well,_ Atin thought. _We left him behind._

“Is there a surgeon around here?” Atin wondered.

“I’ll guide you two to our doctor, Mij,” Fi offered.

The three Omega Squad clones left, Corr still struggling against Atin.

Ajax, Buckler, and Ka'rta resumed their journey towards Bralor. She spotted the three and started walking towards them.

“Ajax,” their old sergeant said, her affection obvious in her tone. She opened her arms for an embrace. She hugged each of the three. “Where’s your fourth man?” she wondered. “I know what happened to Ca’ad, but HQ didn't assign you a new sniper?”

“No, they did,” responded Ka'rta, gazing blankly into the distance. “He complied with Order 66. We had to leave him behind.”

Buckler snorted. “He was a white job through and through.”

Ajax glared coldly at Buckler. He didn't tolerate that kind of speech at a time like this. “He’s _not_ lost, Buck.”

The four stood in reverent silence for a moment.

“Were you thinking about going back for him?” Bralor finally asked.

Ajax gazed off into the distance, staring but not seeing anything. “We have to. We promised to get him here.”

Ordo stepped over and revealed he had been eavesdropping. “Mereel and I are working on a comlink with Niner and Darman. They can get us the intel we need to pull off an op.”

Ajax smiled. “For once, things are looking up.”


	10. Part Seven: The Battle Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Clone Wars have come to a screeching halt, but Phi Squad has unfinished business with the new GALACTIC EMPIRE...

“ _Order 66 was the single most terrifying moment of my life. I had promised the squad I was going to desert, but hunting Jedi would take top priority for us commandos if we stayed in. I was_ very _conflicted, not knowing whether I should follow my orders or keep my word. Both were incredibly important to me. Still are.”_

Ajax, reminiscing on the sudden end of the Clone War in Ka'rta's audio journal

###  Six months later, 1,183 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

### 

“Did you say Delta Squad?” Ajax asked the comlink in his hand. On the other end was Niner and Darman.

“That’s right,” replied Niner’s voice. “Tracker went to them as a replacement for Sev. There’s still no news on _him_ , by the way.”

Ajax heaved a deep sigh. Then his mind turned to a more pragmatic question. “What’s the Empire using you commandos for?” he wondered. “It’s not like there’s a war on, so no need for spec ops.”

“We’re hunting Jedi and deserters. I found your number on the list, along with everyone else at Kyrimorut.”

Ajax smiled ruefully. “Well, we all have our enemies, don't we?”

“Yes, we do,” Niner answered. “I got to go. Squad’s back. Talk to you later.”

“ _K’oyacyi,_ ” Ajax said. It was a uniquely Mando way of saying “goodbye.” It literally meant “keep yourself alive.”

The comlink fizzled out. Ajax sighed deeply, not really knowing what the future would have in store. All he knew right then was that he could use a really strong cup of caf. He didn't know why he was so tired all of a sudden. Then it struck him. _Boredom._ The word perfectly described the way he felt. No more sudden missions from the top. No more endless hordes of clankers. No more hunting enemies of the state. No more thrill of the hunt, of combat. There was nothing to do now. The others might have been doting on little Kad, but Ajax had never felt a paternal instinct. He had no idea what “love” meant.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He loved his brothers deeply. That’s why he could often be seen drawing designs for Kal’s clone memorial.

 _Speaking of which,_ Ajax thought to himself, _I should probably go out there and re-measure the footprint._ He started walking towards the front door of the Clan _veh’yaim,_ their home in the middle of the northern Mandalorian forest. The trees were quite relaxing just to sit and stare at. Ajax let himself smile slightly, knowing their position was defensible.

Kal was standing next to the square he’d outlined in the mud months earlier. Ajax walked over to him.

“I think I’ve figured out a design that will maximize surface area for numbers and tallies, minimize materials needed, _and_ give the memorial a sacred feel,” Ajax reported.

“Let’s see,” said Kal. He was eager to start building, but not before they had a fitting design.

Ajax pulled a folded sheet of flimsi from his belt. He’d never liked designing on a hologram. It was too intangible. Using a pen and flimsi was much more reliable.

Since arriving at Kyrimorut six months prior, Ajax had forged some _beskar’gam_ for himself. So had the other two. He wore Ca’ad’s helmet from the Death Watch mission, forever making his brother a part of himself. The rest of his armor kept some blue and grey colors, but added the sergeant’s signature stripes of purple.

Kal took the flimsi, unfolding the blueprint. “This is simply _beautiful,_ Aj’ika.”

Ajax blushed slightly at the affectionate name. “Thank you, Kal’buir.”

“I should start sourcing the permacrete.”

The clone was taken aback. “Really? You think this is the one?”

Kal smiled. “I _know_ it is, _ad’ika._ ”

Ajax’s smile soon faded. “Can we wait on building it until we get Tracker back? I want him to be a part of this.”

Kal placed his hand on Ajax’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back here before you know it.”

“And Mij will take that thing out of his head?” Ajax wondered, talking about Mij Gilamar, the Kyrimorut doctor.

“I know he will. He did it for Corr, didn't he? Tracker will be the man you served with in less than a month.”

Ajax was shocked by the certainty of the timeframe. “We’re doing this in a _month?_ ”

“Actually,” Kal answered, “I was thinking sometime this _week._ ”

***

Ka’rta and Buckler couldn’t believe their ears.

“This week?” blurted Ka’rta. “Do we have the intel or disguises?”

Ordo answered the question by walking into the _karyai_ , the large living room, carrying two sets of stormtrooper armor, one in each hand. “There are four more in Aay’han. Niner transmitted us some floor plans of the new Arca yesterday.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Buckler said. “It seems like we should just leave well enough alone.”

“He’s our brother,” reminded Ka’rta.

“So was Ca’ad,” Buckler pointed out. “Did we go back and retrieve his body?” He took the following silence as the no he knew was coming.

“Death Watch would have killed anyone we sent after Ca'ad,” Ajax explained. “We couldn't have saved the body. The helmet was the most we could do.” He held up the grey-and-blue helmet Buckler had taken from the body. “ _Mando'ade draar digu,_ Buck.” Mandalorians never forget. In this case, it meant Ca'ad would be remembered.

That remark seemed to ease the tension in the room.

“I’m sorry,” Buckler said. “I didn’t mean to lash out like that.”

“I understand,” Ka'rta consoled. “We haven't been in combat for a while. It wears on the nerves.”

“So does being in combat,” Ordo remarked. He had just returned with two more sets of the stormtrooper armor. “Are you going to try these on or not?”

“Sorry, Cap,” Ajax said jokingly, with a salute. “Didn't realize we were supposed to suit up.”

Ordo glared at the once-sergeant. “I’m not a captain anymore. Kal’buir is the only authority around here.” He left to grab the final two suits of armor.

“I wonder who the other three are,” commented Ka'rta.

Wolffe, Rex, and Gregor walked into the room, almost as if they had heard the question to answer it. All three were still wearing their GAR-issue armor. If they were staying at Kyrimorut, they could wear that armor openly. Anywhere else, and it would put a target on their back. The helmets and armor had been retired, in favor of stormtrooper helmets, which you couldn't see out of, and lighter armor, made of thin plasteel. Supposedly, the new armor could disperse blasts better than the old, leaving the wearer injured but alive.

“Who are we going to retrieve?” asked Rex.

“An old friend,” said Ajax.

“Your squadmate?”

Ajax nodded. “Ordo wants us to get used to the armor and blasters. Go ahead and start getting it put on. We’ll be wearing it a while.”

Gregor spoke up. “This _can't_ be better than our Katarn kit.” He put on the helmet. “How do we activate the HUD? You can't see _anything_ out of these tiny lenses.”

Ordo was dragging in the last two suits. “Mereel and I already tried to get the HUDs to turn on. We couldn't. You’ll have to make do with the decreased FOV.”

“Great,” Rex said, sarcastically. “This armor really is junk.”

“Supposedly,” Wolffe replied, “when it works properly, this stuff is top-of-the line.” He looked down the scope of his BlasTech E-11 blaster rifle. “On the other hand, the blaster looks cheap and mass-produced.”

Rex was stretching every way he could to try and get the feel of the new armor. “I would say the same thing about this junking armor.”

“At least it’s light,” Buckler commented before putting on the last piece of his armor, the helmet. “Where’d you find the blaster, Wolffe?”

“Try the holster on your belt,” Wolffe replied.

“Oh.” Buckler pulled out the blaster and inspected it through his helmet’s polarized lenses. “Thanks.”

Ka'rta was fussing with the lower leg plates. They wouldn't seem to fit right. “Where’s the shooting range?” he wondered.

“Over by the _meshgeroya_ pitch,” Ordo answered. “If you’d follow me.”

The six clones quickly holstered their weapons and those still helmetless quickly remedied the error. Rex bumped his head on the not-fully-open door as he passed out into the forest surrounding the bastion.

“I _hate_ this armor already,” the ex-501st captain declared. His last mission as a clone had been to Mandalore, fighting Darth Maul and the Shadow Collective. He hadn't yet adjusted to being surrounded by figures wearing the same armor as his so-recent enemies.

Gregor laughed. “Captain, I thought you’d never say it.” Some people took a real refuge in sarcasm.

Rex echoed the recent words of Ordo. “I’m no longer a captain. Besides, you were a captain, too, during the war.”

“You’re right about that, sir.”

Wolffe cut in with an admonishing remark. “Gregor, you know Rex doesn't like it when you call him by his rank and treat him like a superior.”

“Who’s up for some _meshgeroya_ after target practice?” Ka'rta asked, to change the subject and break the tension.

“What’s _meshgeroya?_ ” Rex wondered. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Ajax replied with a short-winded explanation. “ _Meshgeroya._ It means ‘the beautiful game.’ The rules are simple: Get the ball into the goal by any means necessary. Two teams, two goals, one objective.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Rex said, “it kinda sounds like war.”

Buckler laughed. “Exactly. Why else would the Mandalorians call _limmie_ the ‘beautiful game?’”

That remark made all six clones roar with laughter. They soon arrived at the makeshift shooting range. It was a line in the mud flanked by several inactive battle droids, standing fifty meters in the distance. Bralor stood there, waiting.

“I didn't think the Empire knew about us yet,” the old sergeant commented, slyly.

“They don't,” replied Ajax. “It’s just us, the strike team.”

“You look convincing, _ad’ike._ ” Bralor probably would have ruffled Ajax’s hair, but the helmet was staying on, it seemed. “So, you can draw your blasters now.”

The six complied, almost immediately. They were almost eager to try out the new kit.

“Fire at will,” Bralor ordered.

The six clones fired the first volley in near-perfect unison. All of them missed the inactive droid marks in the distance.

Gregor cursed. “Can't aim the stupid thing properly. Is the sight supposed to tie in with the HUD or something?”

“It must,” Ajax remarked. “Can't get the scope pressed up to the faceplate. You’d think the people over at Imperial Weapons Research would make the helmet geometry compatible with the rifle stock.”

Ka'rta seemed to have a different idea. “You can see the scope a lot better if you use the _folding_ stock.” He took a second shot, hitting his mark. “ _It_ works just fine.”

The other five started fumbling around with the blasters, eventually finding the stock in its folded position underneath the barrel.

Wolffe was trying to aim his blaster when it suddenly fired. He cried out in frustration. “Blasted trigger doesn't have enough resistance. I’m surprised we have any control over firing. These things are absolute _osik_ compared to our old Deeces.”

Buckler snorted as he took another shot, finally seeming to get a handle on the quirks of the E-11. “And _you_ didn't even have the deluxe model.”

Ajax smirked, both because of Buckler’s comment and because he’d just hit the target for the first time. “I _loved_ that 17m. Best blaster I ever used.”

“How about the _only_ blaster you ever used?” Rex joked.

“Actually, Procurement got us some pretty sleazy kit for our mission on Mandalore,” Ajax replied.

The six spent several hours getting used to the E-11, before splitting into teams for _meshgeroya._ Logically, they split into Phi Squad and the “regs.” The brutal game lasted until dinnertime, and resulted in surprisingly few injuries. Vicious play was expected in _meshgeroya,_ but _Mando’ade_ had a way of minimizing injuries. Or stormtrooper armor was just that good. By the end of the day, the strike team was surprisingly used to the new armor. Maybe it wasn't as bad as Rex thought. He thumped his head again on the way back into the _veh’yaim._

“ _Shab_!” Rex swore. “Can't see the top of the door out of these blasted lenses.”

His misfortune made the others duck as they walked through, for the second time that day. They were all exactly 1.83 meters tall, as Jango Fett had been.

As the six filed in, other people were coming in to get to the table for dinner. They got a few blank stares, accompanied by hushed whispers. People thought Kyrimorut had been discovered by the Empire. The disguises might work after all.

Clan Skirata sat down to dinner, six of them wearing armor none of them hoped to see on Mandalore ever again. The women of Kyrimorut were preparing dinner in the kitchen. At the sight of stormtroopers, Ordo’s wife Besany screamed and nearly dropped the salad bowl. She hastily placed it on the table, then retreated back into the kitchen.

“It’s okay, _ad’ika,_ ” Kal reassured Besany, calling into the adjacent room. “It’s just Phi and our friends Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor.” He gestured for the six to take off their helmets. “I think those disguises are going to work _beautifully._ ”

“I agree,” stated Ajax. “As long as the tallies haven't been deactivated, that is.”

“Helmet comm would be pretty nice, too,” Buckler commented.

“Sorry about that,” Ordo apologized. “They put in some pretty foolproof safeguards. Internal systems are all inactive.”

“Blast it,” swore Buckler. “Can we jury-rig something?”

“Maybe,” Ordo said, helping himself to a plate of salad. “But you’ll only be able to communicate with each other, and you won't be able to tell if an Imperial is raising you.”

Buckler pitched his own idea. “I can rig something that’ll hack us into any Imperial frequency.”

“We should look into fixing the onboard systems,” Mereel suggested.

Wolffe chuckled. “The HUD would be nice. Can't aim the blaster properly without it.”

The other five members of the strike team murmured in agreement.

Mereel smiled. “I like a challenge. By this time tomorrow, you’ll either be jury-rigging a comm system or getting used to a new HUD layout.”

Besany walked back into the room with the last platter, setting it on the table to be passed around.

Kal rubbed his hands together in anticipation and declared, “ _Haili cetare!_ ” Fill your boots!

Plates and silverware clattered together, and the clan chatted the evening away, seated together at their absurdly long dinner table.

###  0900 Hours, 1,190 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

The strike team had spent a week getting used to their new armor. Mereel hadn't been able to recover the HUD or internal comm systems. They had to jury-rig a comlink inside the helmet, which would allow Kyrimorut to call them and would allow the clones to talk to each other without being monitored and overheard by the Empire, unless Buckler hacked into their comm network.

It was finally D-day. Aay’han was undergoing final checks, and the six were strapping on their armor for what was hopefully the final time. They would stop on Alderaan, where their old friend Bail Organa was waiting with a commandeered Imperial Lambda-class shuttle.

Ordo called from the cockpit with a report. “All systems nominal. Ready to leave when you are.”

Ajax slipped on his helmet. “Let’s do this.”

The boarding ramp closed behind them, making the ship shudder slightly. It was very final-sounding.

“I hope they can't track us back to Mandalore,” Ka'rta admitted.

“They won't,” promised Ordo. “I won't be picking you up from Coruscant. You’ll steal the shuttle again, then fly it back to Alderaan. I’ll meet you there. The Empire may be waiting, so you might have to act like you love the hegemon.”

“Great,” replied Rex. “Is there anything else we should know?”

“If I think of anything, I know your comlink frequency,” Ordo grinned.

“That’s a relief,” commented Ajax. “Just don't come to us halfway through with a grocery list.”

Ordo chuckled. “Nah. We have all we need from Keldabe. Well, I take that back. How about a meiloorun fruit?”

Ajax laughed in response. “That’s a good joke, Ordo.”

“It wasn't a joke.”

“Oh, are you _shabla_ kidding me? A meiloorun on _Coruscant_?”

“Yes.” Ordo erupted with laughter. “I really had you going there, didn't I?”

Ka'rta joined in with the laughing. “And I never knew _you_ to tell a joke to save your life.”

“Every once in a while, _ner vod._ ” My brother. The squad had really gotten close to everyone at Kyrimorut, even Ordo. It showed, in the affectionate way in which they had started to treat each other. Ordo was joking. That was enough of an indicator in itself.

Aay'han shuddered slightly as it jumped into hyperspace. Ajax hadn't even felt the vessel leave the ground.

“What’s our ETA?” Rex wondered.

Ajax laughed wryly. “They didn't have you calculating travel times to Triple Zero since you were a wee cadet?”

Rex chuckled. “They never gave _me_ pilot training.”

“It’ll be about two hours,” replied Ordo, no-nonsense tone once again obvious in his voice. “One hour to Alderaan, and another to Trip Zip.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Buckler said. “Tracker isn't our brother anymore. Why are we going back?”

“Because we need to,” Ajax said simply, staring blankly at the blue and white streaks through the viewport. “He might not act like the man we know, but he _is_ our brother. We just have to free him from the prison those _gihaale_ created in his mind.” Fish-meal. Ajax’s feelings about Kaminoans had gotten steadily worse, it seemed. Maybe it was being reminded of their arrogance and superior attitude by Hali Ke on Onderon.

“We’ll come back,” Ka'rta reassured him. “All of us.” _Maybe none of us. Maybe I’ll die. Would I sacrifice myself for the safe escape of my squad? Am I ready to_ die?

It was a question on all of their minds. Even Rex’s and Wolffe’s. Now that they knew what civilian life was like, none of the six took death as a given anymore.

“We might not come back,” Gregor commented.

“Whatever the case, we’re getting Tracker out,” Ajax says. “And if one of us gets killed, we keep moving. Understood?”

Everyone in the room nodded.

Buckler was a little slower to react, still having reservations about the mission. Some part of him knew, though, that Tracker was still in there, locked somewhere inside IC-9726. The mission wouldn't be a complete failure, as long as they could get him back to Kyrimorut. As long as Mij Gilamar didn't mess up with the surgery.

“I hope Jusik helps with the healing, using his Force tricks like he did with Fi,” Ka'rta announced. When their ex-Jedi General had left the Order, he’d gone to Kal. Who knew a Jedi could make such a good Mandalorian?

“With everyone in Clan Skirata helping,” Ajax mused, “Tracker’ll be back to himself in no time.”

“Assuming we get him out of there,” Rex mumbled. “If we all get killed on this mission…”

“Why did you volunteer for this mission, Rex?” wondered Ajax. It was a question he’d been wanting to ask for ages. “This isn't personal for the three of you. Also, I don’t like that kind of talk. We might not come back, but that’s _always_ something we have to worry about.”

“Sorry, sir,” Rex said, accepting Ajax’s authority on the mission. “I guess I volunteered because it was the closest I’d get to combat anytime soon. I don't like hiding.”

His two companions nodded and murmured in agreement. So did Buckler.

“Neither do I,” Ajax said after a long silence in the room. He noticed the recycled air was beginning to get a bit stuffy.

The remaining half hour to Alderaan was spent in various phases of preparation. The commandos were cleaning their blasters, the officers were planning the mission, and it seemed like things would go off without a hitch.

The first thing to go wrong happened right as the team landed on Alderaan. Aay'han landed, on Senator Organa’s private landing platform, to be greeted by none other than a squad of stormtroopers. Ajax observed their welcoming party from the viewport.

“I count one squad, eight men,” the ex-sergeant announced. “This isn't good. They’re probably here to perform a routine contraband check. Make sure we’re not carrying any Jedi.”

“This ship _can’t_ be blacklisted,” Ordo said. “I have a Trade Federation transponder code.”

“Maybe they know Nemoidians don't fly Mon Calamari vessels,” Ajax suggested. “Form up, everyone. We don't want them discovering we’re not the real deal. Don't look so relaxed.”

Right as the six got into a convincing formation, a loud banging was heard on the back hatch, accompanied by a muted “Open up.”

Ordo opened the hatch, revealing the six clones to the Imperial squad. “Good luck,” the ARC trooper said over their private comlink. “You’re going to need it.”

***

“What’s your operating number?” asked the stormtrooper with the red pauldron. He was the commander of this squad.

Phi and the other three descended the ramp, marching perfectly synchronized. They stepped off the ramp, and Ordo promptly closed the hatch.

Buckler had worked his magic behind the scenes, and somehow got past the Imperial comlink encryption without anyone noticing he’d linked into the stormtroopers’ comm. He must have programmed some kind of hacking algorithm.

Ajax swiftly replied, to help maintain the illusion. “We’re squad LC-365, sir.” He hoped he’d read his armor tally right. Not having a HUD to read it off of might have been a problem.

The commander scanned his tally, confirming what Ajax had said. “Proceed,” he commanded simply.

The armor the strike team was wearing was armor from a unit that was attached to the Imperial Security Bureau. The ISB was allowed clearance to any Imperial installation, anytime. Without questions. Usually when they showed up at your office, you could expect an arrest for treason.

Ajax and the rest proceeded through Aldera until they found the shuttle promised by Senator Organa. Ka'rta sat in the pilot’s chair, and began hotwiring the vessel.

“I hope they don't have security safeguards,” the medic announced. “We’re going to have a hell of a time if I can't get this ship running.”

Luckily, he was quickly able to bypass the weak security of the vessel’s computer. If they could just make it to Coruscant, they’d be in the clear. ISB access was _extremely_ useful.

“I don't think this op would be working without this armor’s ISB clearance,” Buckler noted. “I could get used to ‘no questions asked.’”

Their shuttle took off soon after that remark, and they were on their way to Coruscant.

Ajax took a moment of remembrance. It was fitting in the pre-mission tension. “ _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,_ Ca’ad.” It was the traditional daily Mando remembrance rite for those who had died. I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Then the names of those no longer with the living were recited.

“ _Mando’ad draar digu,_ ” said Ka'rta in response as he jumped to hyperspace. It wasn't exactly traditional, but it fit. A Mandalorian never forgets.

Buckler decided to respond. “ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la._ ” Not gone, merely marching far away.

Several long moments of silence, of _aay’han,_ followed. The perfect, bittersweet mix of grief and joy. It was a somber trip to the planet they once called home.

***

A feminine voice came through the ship’s comlink. “Transmit your transponder code and operating number immediately.”

Ka'rta pressed a few buttons on his console, giving Command the data they wanted.

“I hope to _Manda’yaim_ this works,” Ka'rta admitted.

“I’m ready for a fight,” Buckler commented, loosening his extra pack of grenades. “In case it doesn't.” He, to say nothing of the others, was having some misgivings about going into the heart of the Empire. Since Order 66, their home had ceased to be Coruscant, and was now Mandalore. For years to come, that final day of the Clone Wars would be the darkest day of all. But the war had ended so abruptly that none of the six felt it was really over. In their minds, they were still fighting.

“Blast,” Ka'rta swore. “I can see two TIEs inbound. I don’t think our codes checked out this time.”

The female traffic controller’s voice came back through the comlink. “Welcome to Coruscant, Squad LC-365. We hope your inspection goes well.”

The TIE fighters took up formation two hundred meters away from the Lambda-class shuttle, at Ka’rta’s two o’clock and his ten o’clock.

“Phew,” the pilot said, relieved. “The TIEs are our escort. They still think we’re VIP-status ISB agents.”

“This mission is going much smoother than I ever expected it to,” remarked Ajax. “ISB really gets luxury treatment.”

The shuttle landed at Arca Company Barracks, as planned. It looked the same as ever, with the exception of a stormtrooper guard on either side of the main entrance and red Imperial banners hanging everywhere.

The six-man squad debarked from the shuttle, and proceeded to the door. They flashed their ID badges, and the guards let them through without hesitation.

Ajax hoped it would all be downhill from here. “Ordo, we’re in.”

“Good,” replied their commander on the other side of the comlink. “I trust you know where to find Tracker?”

“Down the hall to quarters 1711, right?”

“Correct.”

“Let’s go, squad.”

Five figures, wearing armor that belonged to the ISB, moved to follow Ajax. Wolffe and Rex may have held higher ranks during the war, but Ajax had the lead on this mission. After all, it was Ajax’s brother they were after. Rex and Wolffe didn't know what it was like to lose a squadmate. They’d lost brothers, like every other clone, but not ones they were very close to.

“If we can grab Darman and Niner,” Buckler suggested, “we should.”

“To say nothing of the rest of Delta,” Ka’rta added. “If they want to go, we should give them the opportunity.”

“Shut it,” Ajax advised. “Patrol incoming. Buck, access their comms.”

A squad of commandos was walking down the hallway towards the team, different from the other stormtroopers because of their armor. It looked similar to the old Katarn kit, except it was colored a far darker shade of charcoal grey.

Buckler quickly hacked into their comms, by tapping a button on his belt. He had written a script that allowed him to decrypt any Imperial communications frequency without anything more than a simple tap of the button.

The dialogue of the squad they were passing was uninteresting to say the least.

“Look sharp. ISB,” one of the commandos said.

“They don’t look that tough to me,” another said. The newly cloned units all seemed to have identical voices, Ka’rta noted.

“Regulation 9.2623,” Ajax snapped. “Keep the public comm channel clear.” He hoped that Imperial regulations were no different from the old Republic rules, or their cover had been blown. In other terms, Ajax hoped that these units didn't know the Big Book by heart.

The commando in front, whose voice hadn't been heard, finally spoke, adding a salute to his statement. “I apologize for the conduct of my squad, sir. It won't happen again.” He was apparently the sergeant.

Ajax nodded authoritatively. “See that it doesn't. Dismissed.” The ex-sergeant returned the salute and led his “inspection team” on their way.

Buckler disconnected from the Imperial comm. “You’ve still got the leader’s authority, boss,” he said, impressed.

“Thanks, Buck,” Ajax laughed. “I haven’t been _that_ long out of practice with giving orders.”

Ka’rta laughed. “That’s for sure. You’ve been ordering us all around back on Mandalore.”

Ajax glared at him. “We have a job to do here, eighty.”

“Right, boss,” the medic said, quite apologetically.

The six proceeded to their target: Quarters 1711. They passed several other commando squads, but didn't stop to chat. They were, after all, just an ISB inspection team. And what they’d seen so far wasn’t particularly impressive. Some latent comm chatter, a few games of Dejarik and Sabacc, but nothing earth-shatteringly different from Arca Barracks before the New Order. All except for the 501st guards and the uniformity of everyone’s armor. Rex in particular found it disturbing.

“I don't like how boringly standard everything is,” the once-501st captain commented. “This isn't the 501st I remember.”

“You got that right,” replied Wolffe wistfully. “The whole army seems to have changed overnight.”

“Quiet,” Ajax snapped. “Let’s just get this mission over with.”

The six fell into silence, an old habit from the thick of battle. This time, though, there weren't blaster bolts whizzing past their ears, but they were deep into enemy territory.

“Ordo, I’ve got a sitrep,” reported Ajax. “We’ve made it to the quarters and are ready to enter and get what we came for. Please advise.”

The ARC’s voice crackled slightly due to the distance of the transmission. “Go ahead, Ajax. Be advised, though, that there’s a reason they call the 501st ‘Vader’s fist.’ He’s there at Arca right now.”

“Great,” Ajax breathed. “Just what we needed.”

“Isn't Vader the one we were commanded by back at the Temple during Order 66?” Ka’rta wondered. “General Skywalker?”

“Yes,” Ajax confirmed. “I hear he’s in a life-support suit now.”

Rex snorted. “General Skywalker? He died during Order 66. I don't care if the Sith called Vader is made of the same cells. Anakin _has_ to be dead.”

“Zey got his brains shot out by Maze,” Buckler recalled after a few moments of awkward silence. “What a way to go.”

Gregor stared hard at the hallway in front of him. “I think General Kenobi fell to his death. I don't remember when Cody got the order, though. I must have been elsewhere.”

Wolffe felt it proper to share his Order 66 story. “I was on Cato Nemoidia when it happened. General Koon was commanding the fighter assault. Poor sod. When I heard the Chancellor’s order come through, I knew it was high time to desert.”

The six were approaching Delta’s quarters when storytime ended. Ajax promptly snapped back into no-nonsense mode.

“We’re here,” the leader announced. “Be ready to carry out an inspection.”

“Aye,” the other five replied in quick unison, proceeding to form up behind Ajax. Buckler hacked into the squad comms.

Ajax tapped the door control and announced, “Inspection. Get up off your bunks and stand away from the door.”

Delta Squad didn't need to be told twice. They immediately complied with the order.

Phi Squad and Rex stepped in, leaving Gregor and Wolffe to guard the door. They began casually moving things around, as Imperial inspections could be quite aggressive.

Scorch figeted as Buckler rooted around his explosives cache. “Be careful! Those are very delicate.”

Buckler smiled underneath his helmet. “And also very against regulations. I’ll have to confiscate them.” He was just looking for an excuse to gather more ordinance.

Scorch made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. He didn't like the development.

Ajax walked towards Boss, thinking it was high time to reveal their “true” purpose, carefully crafted to fit the archetype of an ISB inspection. “We’re here for IC-9726,” he declared. “You’re under arrest for treason.” _Just not treason against the state._

###  1230 Hours, 1,191 Days ABG, Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

Tracker took the charge without so much as a flinch. He really wasn't the man who had served with Phi Squad. The old Tracker would have been questioning the charge and seeking the counsel of his sergeant. This Tracker was ready to go to prison without so much as a peep in protest, as long as it served the Empire.

Ka'rta took the binders from his belt and slapped them on his squadmate’s wrists, hauling the compliant soldier away.

Ajax turned to Boss. “Now that we have that taken care of, I’m Ajax, that’s Buckler, and that’s Ka'rta.”

Boss staggered back in shock. “Ajax? Have you come to take us back to Kyrimorut?”

“Only if you want to,” came the ex-sergeant’s measured reply. “We came mostly for Tracker.”

Scorch looked scornful. “At least you _could_ come back for him.”

Buckler patted him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you understand, _ner vod._ ”

Scorch turned away. He didn't want to talk about it.

Fixer spoke up. “We’re perfectly fine _here_. Take your squaddie home, and be grateful that you can.”

“Thank you,” Ajax smiled, turning on his heel to exit. “Come on, squad. We’ve got a mission to complete.”

Buckler and Rex turned to follow their squad leader, not ready for what would come next.

Tracker was thrashing in Ka'rta's grip, yelling about something. “You lied to me! You’re deserters, all of you! I’m not the one who should be punished like this! _You’re_ the real traitors here!”

Ka'rta was having a hard time controlling the other. “Remember the promise we made before the end of the war? The promise to desert?”

Tracker continued thrashing, driving his captor close enough to a wall panel that he could sound the alarm. Needless to say, the next few moments were filled with sheer terror for the squad.

***

Klaxons blared throughout the hall. The lights dimmed to red, and blast doors began to block the exits.

“ _Fierfek._ ” None of the squad knew who else had said the curse, and none of them cared. They needed to move if they were going to get out of there.

“Get through that blast door, on the double,” Ajax commanded. “I’ll cover you.”

First, Ka'rta wrangled Tracker through the closing door, then the rest followed. The door clanged shut just behind them, but in front of Ajax. The sound had been very final.

Buckler started trying to slice through the blast door security to open it. “It’s no good,” he declared. “The panel’s been fried.”

“Ajax, what are you trying to do?” wondered Ka'rta, frantic. _Why would he lock the door shut? What’s on the other side?_

“He must be doing what I did on Abafar for that… D-squad,” Gregor mumbled softly. “He’s buying us time. We have to move!”

“Gregor’s right,” Ajax replied. “I won't tell you again. Go. Just go.”

“But…” Ka'rta faltered. He loosened his grip on Tracker, just enough to let the sniper escape.

Wolffe picked up his blaster, quickly set it to stun, and fired at Tracker. The commando stopped struggling.

“Let’s make sure we don’t have to stun him again,” Wolffe advised. “Don’t let your grip loosen.”

“Agreed,” Buckler said, slinging his stunned comrade over his shoulder. “You heard the boss. Move it,” he said, mustering none of the commanding tone he’d hoped to.

“We can’t just _leave_ him!” Ka’rta shouted. “He’s our sergeant!”

“Well, then, as your sergeant,” Ajax replied, “I’m ordering you to leave. I can only buy you so much time.” He had committed to the sacrifice, and there was no turning back now.

Rex grabbed Ka’rta’s arm and practically dragged the commando out of the corridor. There was a reason they had brought Rex and his comrades along. They would feel less attached, and would have clearer heads because of it.

Buckler was sprinting towards the facility’s exit, and the landing pad beyond, Tracker still slung over his shoulder. The rest were running behind him, trying to not get blocked behind one of the closing blast doors. They were conveniently closing one at a time, and not all at once. _The ISB should get on that,_ Buckler thought. _This is too easy._

A horrible yell, in a voice that could only be Ajax’s, came through the comlink. Their sergeant had been killed. Ka'rta felt a somewhat familiar heaving in his chest, the same as he’d felt that day on Carlac. But now was not the time to grieve.

Soon enough, the five clones and the incapacitated Tracker were almost out of the building. If not for Ajax’s sacrifice, they wouldn't be even close to the landing pad.

Their trials weren't over yet, though. A squad of stormtroopers blocked their exit, blasters ready.

Ka'rta, Gregor, Wolffe, and Rex all drew their E-11 blasters simultaneously, and let the blaster fire rip. Anger over Ajax’s apparent death fueled the trigger pull for all of them, even Rex and Wolffe.

The squad blocking the exit door fell in quick succession, none able to get a shot off. Their training had made them hesitate at the sight of friendly stormtrooper armor. They weren’t so brainwashed after all.

The infiltration squad made their way to their shuttle quickly after that, ready to leave Arca for the last time. They bounded up the boarding ramp, blaster fire once again whizzing by their ears.

Ka'rta moved to the pilot’s seat and hastily started the engines so they could extract. As TIE fighters closed in, he made the hyperspace calculations, hoping the shields would hold under the barrage. The navicomputer was soon prepped for their jump, and Ka'rta began to navigate out of the gravity well.

A Star Destroyer appeared in the shuttle’s path, turbolasers charged. This next maneuver would require a lot of skill. Flying out of range of the cannons on a Star Destroyer meant you had to go in close. Needless to say, that was a hard task.

Ka'rta took his vessel as close to the Star Destroyer’s hull as he could, making sure the innumerable turbolasers wouldn't get a lock. He flew across the longest dimension of the fearsome vessel, that being the fastest way to get out of the gravity well. The moment he was free and clear, he activated the hyperdrive, sinking down into his seat out of relief. Now Ka'rta had some time to properly grieve with the rest of his squad, once again including Tracker.

###  Five minutes earlier, on the other side of the blast door

Ajax glanced back to see if there was anything that could kill him before he crawled through the hole, which was now barely large enough for him to fit through. Sure enough, he spotted a black-clad figure, wearing a mask resembling a blackened skull, cape flowing behind him. The rhythmic sound of the figure’s mechanized breathing menaced Ajax from ten meters away.

The figure ignited a red lightsaber blade, threatening Ajax implicitly and explicitly revealing his identity as Darth Vader. After a few threatening moments, he spoke, “Now we will finish what we started six months ago.” The Sith would wait a while for a response.

Ajax knew what he had to do. He turned his blaster towards the door control panel, and fired once. He didn't want his squad to rescue him, not when he could still buy them time.

Buckler had apparently started trying to slice through the blast door security to open it. “It’s no good,” he declared. “The panel’s been fried.”

“Ajax, what are you trying to do?” wondered Ka'rta, frantic.

 _Hurry up and leave,_ Ajax thought. _I have to buy you the time to make an escape._

“What I did on Abafar for that… D-squad,” Gregor mumbled softly. Ajax could hear it clearly over the helmet comm. “He’s buying us time. We have to move!”

“Gregor’s right,” Ajax replied. “I won't tell you again. Go. Just go.” _I have to do this. They need me to._

“But…” Ka'rta faltered.

A few moments passed before Buckler broke the silence. “You heard the boss. Move it,” he said, a command that didn't convince even Ajax.

“We can’t just _leave_ him!” Ka’rta shouted. “He’s our sergeant!”

“Well, then, as your sergeant,” Ajax replied, “I’m ordering you to leave. I can only buy you so much time.” There could be no turning back now. Ajax turned to face his attacker, and fired at the oncoming black figure as if he could actually kill the Sith. It was the response Vader had waited for. _Come and get me, you stinking_ di’kut. _I’ll either kill you or get killed._

Vader deflected his every blast, always the master of Form IV. As he did so, the Sith drew closer to Ajax.

_So much for that idea._

“How noble,” Vader’s deep voice sneered. “Sacrificing yourself for the squad. Very Jedi-like.”

Ajax threw aside his helmet, raising his blaster once more. This was Ajax’s private conversation to have.

“I’m _not_ a Jedi,” Ajax replied. “ _You_ were a Jedi once.”

The Sith was taken aback by the audacity of the statement. This truth angered him.

“Anakin Skywalker is... dead,” Vader declared, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that. “I killed him that day in the Jedi Temple.”

_He’s not so sure of himself after all._

Ajax glared. “I’m not afraid,” he returned. “Of you _or_ my impending death.” _What am I saying? Of course I’m afraid. I’m afraid they won't make it out of here, or that Tracker won’t get back to himself, or… or that he won’t forgive me for dying._

“You would do well to be afraid,” sneered the Sith. “Courage does not mean absence of fear.” How far Anakin Skywalker had fallen.

 _My name is Ajax. RC-3608. I am afraid, but not of death. So long as the others escape and continue to fight the Emipre’s evil, my sacrifice will not be made in vain._ “Live to fight another day,” Ajax whispered aloud. “Live to resist the Empire.” The sergeant knelt before the superior power before him, not frightened of death, but of what the future held for those he knew.

At this gesture, Vader raised his saber, ready for a downward slash. He looked at the bare head of his prey; Ajax’s helmet still laid on the floor.

“Any last words?” Vader taunted.

Ajax looked his executioner in the lenses and smiled. “What good execution is complete without them?” _I always get the last word. No matter the situation._

“With every person you kill, you lose another part of yourself. I lost so much of myself during the war, I barely know who I am.” The smile had faded from Ajax’s lips, replaced by a slight frown and punctuated by a downward nod of submission.

Vader looked the clone straight in the eye, listening to the statement. It only ignited a fire in his eyes, hidden by his skull-shaped helmet. He let the blade down, to score through Ajax’s chest. Surprisingly, the flesh offered no resistance to the sword.

The intense heat of the blade as it struck Ajax made him cry out in pain, a loud, grueling death scream that could surely be heard through several bulkheads. His helmet, a few meters away, picked up the sound and transmitted the scream to the others.

The last thing Ajax noticed was the sharp smell of ozone produced by the plasma blade. The smell was vaguely like the air on Kamino when lightning struck the parade grounds.

He was almost surprised by the quickness with which death took him. And then… nothing. No more thoughts, no more smells, no more sounds, no more feeling. Just nothing. Nothing at all. Everything had faded in less than an instant.

Vader looked on as his victim’s body sank to the floor, in one of the longest moments of the Sith’s life. What little good was left in him soon realized the truth of Ajax’s last words. That truth was quickly buried again by the Dark Side.

***

Out in the next hallway, the others were busy escaping. But all five who were conscious heard the death yell come over the comm. It fueled a kind of animal rage, the knowledge that a “good man” like Ajax was dead. Their anger would last until they were out of danger, and free to grieve. Anger would return months later, but in a different form. That anger would be less intense, more healing, a natural part of the grieving process.

Ka'rta successfully navigated quickly out of the Coruscant gravity well under pressure, a feat he’d likely never repeat. For much of the rest of his artificially shortened life, he’d feel overwhelming grief for both Ajax and Ca’ad. From time to time, the depression would become debilitating.

As he sank back into his chair after jumping to hyperspace, hot tears began to fall down his face, covered by the helmet. His sobs could be heard over the helmet comm. It had been painful to lose Ca’ad all those years ago, but losing Ajax was much, much harder. Ca’ad had been separated, both physically and emotionally. Ajax had been a sergeant and a friend since before the war. Ka'rta and Buckler had always seen him as a shoulder to cry on. It was always hard to lose that. They still had each other, though. They'd have Tracker, too, once he was back to himself.

Buckler strode into the cockpit where Ka'rta was sitting. He intended to console his friend, with little success. He just couldn't find the right words. Buckler still hadn't even totally come to terms with Ca’ad’s passing. His hand was firmly clasped on the sniper’s tally. Buckler found the talisman quite soothing, especially now.

Sometimes, all you needed was for someone to be there. It was all Ka'rta needed right then.

After a few long, sorrowful moments, the pilot finally said, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“Neither can I,” Buckler admitted. He held up the tally and examined it for several moments. “Ca’ad always seemed to keep to himself. Ajax was always right there with us, laughing along.”

Ka'rta nodded, tears returning to his eyes. “It just isn't fair. We shouldn't have to lose Ajax just to be with Tracker again.”

Buckler grasped his brother’s opposite shoulder and pulled the other close in a kind of half-hug. “I know. Still, it makes you wonder… if he could possibly be alive here with us.”

Ka'rta heaved an especially heavy sob. “I’ve already replayed it in my mind. There must have been _something_ we could have done.”

“We tried,” Buckler said. “But he didn't want us to.”

This made Ka'rta break even more into tears, knowing that Ajax had wanted to die. It didn't feel like a heroic sacrifice just then. It felt like a needless loss.

Buckler continued to hug his brother, knowing it was the best he could do. A gesture to show him there were still people there for him, even if Ajax was gone.

Ka'rta threw himself into the arms of his friend and took the proffered shoulder to cry on. The embrace would last until they returned the shuttle to Alderaan.

***

“Thank you,” said Bail Organa. “This shuttle has been missing for several days. You have my gratitude for returning it.” He dropped several credit chips into Rex’s hand, enough to buy an old AT-TE from a junkyard.

Rex took the credits, and pocketed them, almost as though he was a mercenary. He would later find a small holochip in the stack, with a message for him. An entreaty to join the Rebel Alliance. Years later, a Jedi—no, an old friend—would finally recruit him.

“Anything to serve the Empire,” Rex lied. He was still wearing his stormtrooper disguise, and needed to keep up the theatrics. You never knew who was watching.

Behind him, Ka'rta and Buckler were doing their best to keep Tracker under control. They were also trying not to display their pain. All in the name of keeping up appearances.

On the outskirts of town, Ordo was waiting in Aay’han to take the six back to Mandalore.

Rex led the others onto the ship, having taken command from Ajax. He was the only one who stepped up.

“All here and accounted for,” the captain reported. “Except Ajax,” he muttered, mostly to appease Ka'rta and Buckler.

“I’m sorry to hear about that,” said Ordo, his tough exterior seeming to crack a little. “But we need to get back to Kyrimorut so Mij can do surgery on Tracker.”

“Then take off,” Rex suggested. “We’re all here.”

Aay'han lifted off the ground, and left for Mandalore, never to return to Alderaan. The journey was a long one, filled with sorrow and regret.

Tracker was still oblivious to everything that had happened before Order 66. “Why?” the sniper asked. “Why would you kidnap me under false pretenses? Why did you charge me with treason?”

Ka'rta looked up at his restrained squadmate. “We did it because you’re our friend, because you promised to come away with us. You promised to leave the army.”

“We’re stormtroopers. We’re not allowed to desert. We don’t have friends. That’s to save us the pain of loss. Why do you call me your friend?”

“You don't remember _anything,_ do you? About the Clone Wars?” Ka'rta wondered, mortified.

Tracker appeared to be deep in thought. “I remember… the march on the Jedi Temple. My squad deserted me. I hate them,” he said, struggling against his restraints. “I should have seen it earlier. They were _traitors!_ ” He didn't appear to recognize Ka'rta, even as the man who had betrayed him.

Ka'rta stood back in horror, and went to join the others in the cockpit. This Tracker was definitely not the man he knew. _I hope taking that chip out of his head returns him to normal._

***

Aay'han landed, home once again on Mandalore. Buckler and Ka'rta helped guide Tracker to the house, and the makeshift medbay inside. Mij Gilamar was already waiting, hypospray of general anesthetic in his hand. As Tracker was forced down onto the operating table, Mij took the hypo to the clone’s neck and injected him with the anesthesia. Tracker fell unconscious.

“You’ll probably want to leave for this part,” the surgeon advised. “It could get messy.”

Buckler nodded and grabbed Ka'rta to exit the room. The medic shook his brother off to get one last long glance at Tracker. Then he turned and exited the room, hoping for the best.

It was an hour before Mij came back out of the operating room, microscope slide in his hand. Encased in the slide was an inhibitor chip.

“He might be a little messed up for a week or so, but with a little help from Jusik, I think we’ll be seeing a full recovery,” the surgeon announced. “He’s resting, if you want to see him.”

Ka'rta and Buckler immediately rushed into the room, hoping to see Tracker as they remembered him. Their friend lay sleeping on the operating table, looking as peaceful as ever. There was one difference, though, apart from the bandage on his temple. He would always have a scar right there.

The sniper was now bald. The hair had been shaved off so Mij could find the chip and take it out. He looked almost like Buckler this way.

Ka'rta placed his hand on Tracker’s, hoping that it would make everything okay. Buckler did the same on the opposite side.

“If only Ajax were here,” Ka'rta commented, sadly.

Jusik walked into the room, looking good in _beskar’gam._ He was ready to perform a miracle with the help of the Force.

Ka'rta looked up at the once-Jedi. “I didn't think you were going to start treatment this early.”

“If you want your brother back when he wakes up, I have to do this,” Jusik said simply.

“Okay,” Buckler consented, getting up off his knees. Suddenly every bone in his body was aching for some rest. It had been a long, hard day. Even so, they’d succeeded with the mission. But that success had come at a steep price. It had cost Ajax’s life. Buckler could never forget that. It made Tracker’s return to health all the more bittersweet.

Ka'rta got up and followed his friend out. Now that Ajax was gone, it was all the more important that the two stay close. It was important that Tracker stay close, too. If he left, the void he’d filled for Ca'ad would certainly be exposed, worse than it had in the six months since the war ended.

As he laid down on the bed, Buckler realized part of his aches and pains was grief. The kind of grief that made you want to lie in bed all day and not even eat. The kind of grief that turned your gut upside down and made you cry out for the dead man. The kind of grief that wiped the smile off your face for years to come.

Buckler suddenly remembered something Jusik had mentioned on the shuttle off of Carlac, trying to heal them after Ca’ad’s passing. _Nothing really ever dies. The living Force resides within everything that lives and breathes. When something dies, its imprint is left upon the Cosmic Force. Your brother is part of something more than this galaxy we live in. Cherish this thought. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force._

Somehow, the thought that Ajax was still around, but locked in an irretrievable way, made Buckler feel even worse.

Ka’rta laid himself on the bunk next to Buckler and waited. For what, he didn’t quite know. To fall asleep, to hear Ajax calling him into the briefing room—that thought gave him pause. The war was over and Ajax was dead.

Ajax.

Dead.

The two words rang through the medic’s head several times before their meaning became wholly clear. He would never, for as long as he lived, hear his sergeant’s smooth voice ever again. Ajax would never again chide him for making a joke at the wrong time. He would never again be able to seek comfort in that shoulder, one that had always been there.

Buckler’s shoulder was there, too, Ka'rta supposed. _And he will be there for you in years to come. You can’t afford to lose another one._

The two drifted off into a fitful sleep, their dreams often linked in reliving the events of the last day.

***

Tracker woke, alone in a cold, dark room full of medical instruments. _This can't be a Republic medbay. There’d be lights on and a medical droid standing over me. Where the_ shab _could I be?_

Tracker glanced down, looking at his armor. It wasn't the camouflage he seemed to remember. It looked like Katarn armor, but more charcoal grey than white. He tried to remember where he’d gotten it, or where he might be. Everything came back as a blur after the Medallion of Honor ceremony.

 _I’m definitely not at Arca,_ the sniper thought. He racked his brains for any shred of memory, and came up with a few things. _We were going to desert. The war’s over. I must be on Mandalore._

A shadow moved in the dimly lit room. Tracker’s keen senses picked it up, causing him to pounce at the mouse that had cast the shadow.

“It’s just an animal,” he whispered to himself, taking comfort in the sound of his voice. “Nothing to worry about.”

Something stirred in the opposite corner of the room. It was Jusik. The Jedi must have been woken by the new presence in the Force.

Tracker recognized him almost immediately, and soon remembered that Order 66 had been called. “Kill Jedi,” the sniper whispered, rushing over to Jusik’s exhausted form and attempting to strangle him.

Jusik had drained himself almost completely trying to restore Tracker’s personality the day previous. He couldn't rely on the Force to help him in this fight. Luckily, _Kal’buir_ had insisted that he learn to fight with his hands, without help from the “Jedi crutch,” as he called it. The choke hold was swiftly turned, and Jusik was ready to deliver the final blow in self-defense. Then he realized who it was he was holding and released his grip.

“This isn't you,” the Jedi said, trying to project feelings of calm into Tracker’s mind with the Force. “You don’t have to comply with Order 66.”

Jusik had restored Tracker’s personality, but hadn't wiped the clone's memory. He still remembered everything. Even his merciless slaughter of Jedi and civilians on assignment for the Empire.

The animal look of uncontrolled rage faded from Tracker’s eyes, replaced with one of infinite pain and sorrow.

“What have I done?” the sniper wondered, staring at his hands as though they were covered in the blood of unfortunate Jedi. He sank back down to a slouch on the operating table he had slept on. “All those innocent Jedi I killed on Coruscant and Alderaan. Padawans and younglings. What other kinds of atrocities have I committed in the name of the Empire?”

“ _You_ didn't do any of those things, Tracker,” Jusik replied. “That was all IC-9726 and the inhibitor chip. You aren't responsible for anything you did since Order 66.”

Tracker snorted, a trick of disgust he’d learned from Buckler. Tears were trickling down his face as memories seemed to clear from the fog. “That’s easy for you to say. You aren't the one with the blood of a hundred innocents, including Jedi, on your hands. They used Order 37 to draw out the Jedi in that town. We were told to kill innocent _civilians_ so our real prey would draw themselves out of the shadows.”

“You were following orders. You had no choice.”

“I _enjoyed_ it,” the sniper replied simply. “Even gunning down those unarmed civilians felt powerful and… and _good_. I took _joy_ out of the deaths of others.”

“You were being controlled.” Jusik seriously considered asking if the clone wanted his mind rubbed and his memory erased. He decided not to ask.

“I don’t think I can go on like this,” Tracker sobbed. “It was better when everything was just a fog.” Most of his memory since Order 66 was still at least a bit foggy, and always would be. The mental fog was a result of the inhibitor’s control.

“Why are you trying to take the blame for this?” Jusik wondered. “There must be a reason you can’t accept that you were under the control of your chip.”

Tracker was still sobbing heavily. “I betrayed my brothers. My own _shabla_ squad. People I loved, and who loved me enough to bring me back here.”

Jusik felt he should let Ka'rta and Buckler handle it from here. He raised them on the comm. “Phi, Jusik here. Tracker’s awake now.”

Ka'rta replied almost immediately. “We’ll be there shortly.”

Several long minutes later, Ka'rta and Buckler walked into the medbay. Tracker was sitting on the operating table again, looking shaken to the core. The sniper looked up and saw the two familiar faces, smiling weakly at the sight. There was just one thing wrong with what he saw.

“Where’s—where’s Ajax?” Tracker asked, not remembering his sergeant’s fate. He had been stunned while it happened.

Ka'rta almost broke out into tears again, before saying, “Dead.” His voice broke as he pronounced the word.

Tracker looked stunned. “Dead?” he wondered. “You’re kidding.”

“We heard his death scream,” Buckler said. “He gave himself up to save _you._ ”

Tracker couldn't find the right words, stammering several times before giving up. Not even “ _fierfek_ ” seemed to sum up his feelings. Ajax was dead because of him. Ajax was dead because he didn't desert at the end of the war. Ajax was dead because of the inhibitor chip. Tracker made a mental note that he wanted to destroy the thing as soon as he could get it from Mij. It had caused so much suffering, both his and others’.

Several more long moments were taken to let the sergeant’s absence sink in. Tracker had indeed returned to himself, feeling rotten that Ajax had to die so he could make it back.

A few minutes later, Kal walked in on the moment of _aay’han._ It was a beautiful thing to witness, the melancholy moment of remembrance, grief, and joy. He took a folded piece of flimsi from his pocket. Ajax’s design for the memorial. When the clone sergeant had drafted it, he’d never thought his own name and number would be included on it.

“I’ve got the materials ready to build this,” Kal said to break the silence. “Ajax wanted Tracker to be a part of it. I think it’s time to build his memorial.”

Ajax’s memorial. Building something their dead sergeant created would function as a healing exercise.

No one jumped up immediately, but they all resolved individually to do it. If nothing else, it would give them a glimpse of Ajax — at least, the workings of his mind — for one last time. Eventually, Ka'rta slowly walked over to Kal and looked at the plans. He gasped in shock upon seeing the blueprints.

“It’s—it’s _beautiful,_ ” the medic declared, piquing the others’ interest. “Ajax drafted this?”

The loopy signature in the corner confirmed that Ajax had drawn the blueprints.

Tracker and Buckler walked over, and had similar reactions to the design. It was, indeed, a visual achievement, even on flimsi. It would look even better in real life. Over the next month, the three would work diligently to do their sergeant’s design — and his memory — justice.

###  1145 Hours, 1,218 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

Rav Bralor stood at the base of the developing permacrete monolith, gazing at the monument her student, Ajax, had worked so hard to design. Right now, it was shaping up to be a four-meter-tall by two-meter-wide obelisk, with ornate carvings of some of the bloodiest battles of the Clone Wars at the base, carved out of Mandalorian marble. The reliefs included Geonosis, Drongar, Sarrish, and Umbara. All had been drawn by Ajax and carved by his squad. They trusted no one else to do the reliefs justice.

Bralor shifted in her belt pouch some armor tallies she’d been sent by her students over the years. She planned to put them in the memorial, before the permacrete dried. She walked over to Buckler, who was busy chipping out the figure of an insectoid geonosian in one of the reliefs.

“Is there a place I can put these?” she asked, showing Buckler the tallies.

Buckler reached up to feel the permacrete above the Geonosis relief. It felt like just the right balance of soft and firm to stick the tallies into.

“Push them in right here,” the slicer answered. “Just give us enough space to identify them with an inscription.”

Bralor tried to reach high enough, but couldn't. She began looking for a ladder. Soon, she spotted one, and grabbed it so she could complete her task. The tallies were in place shortly after.

Buckler finished carving his relief, and stood back to gaze at the scene. It looked hauntingly like the way he remembered the bunker explosion. Gunships flying in the background, far, far away; Acclamators flying far overhead, supervising the battle from on high; and the mountain of permacrete rubble, which had trapped Ka'rta. The way Ajax had drawn the scene reminded Buckler too much of the fear and anger of that day. He found it amazing how much could be expressed in four square meters of marble.

The slicer remembered his next job, fumbling around for something in his belt pouch. Then he found the small piece of plastoid he’d been carrying everywhere with him for nearly three years. It was finally time to let go of Ca’ad.

Buckler pulled himself up the ladder Bralor had brought over, and climbed up two meters, to the empty space above the mural. He pushed the plastoid into the permacrete gently, and with a trickle of tears, finally released his brother Ca’ad. It had taken three years, but he finally had come to terms with his brother’s death.

Next, in his most careful hand, Buckler labeled the so-familiar tally: RC-9726 “CA’AD.”

The inscription seemed to give Buckler a kind of comfort in that Ca’ad would now be forever eternal, forever a part of those lost during the Clone War.

As he stepped down the ladder, Buckler saw the rest of the memorial was coming together, and Gregor couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the Sarrish relief. That had been the battle when the once-commando had lost his memory and crashed on Abafar. Ajax’s artistic side had evoked emotions in Gregor much as it had in Buckler. All the bodies—they seemed to be everywhere—appeared nearly exactly as Gregor remembered them. It was one of few memories he had actually regained from before dishwashing at Borkus’s.

Kal had been right. This design _was_ the one to be displayed for eternity.

The structure was almost complete. Now all it needed was the names and numbers of those commandos who had died. There wasn't enough space to memorialize all the millions of CTs who had been killed. Those numbers could live in front of the Republic Center for Military Operations on Coruscant. There was barely enough space for the nearly hundred thousand RC numbers on the Kyrimorut memorial.

Engraving the names and putting in the few tallies they had took several days of work. When that was finished, the three survivors added some Mando’a wisdom to Ajax’s original design, in some of the blank spaces they could find. Ideally, the words would add sacredness and make viewers realize the sacrifices of the soldiers. The four phrases were “ _Mando’ade draar digu,_ ” “ _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj’la,_ ” “ _Te mandokarla,_ ” and “ _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni par’tayli, gar darasuum._ ” “Mandalorians never forget,” “Not gone, merely marching far away,” “The ones with the ‘right stuff,’” and the daily remembrance rite, after which names would be chanted.

The memorial was finally finished, and the three living members of Phi Squad had one final task: to sign their work. In the only space left, they wrote, “DESIGNED BY THE LATE RC-3608, THE BEST SERGEANT WE COULD HAVE ASKED FOR. CONSTRUCTED BY HIS OWN PHI SQUAD.”

What came next, the dedication ceremony, was the most beautiful thing anyone there had ever experienced. All of Clan Skirata circled around the obelisk, to dedicate it to Ajax and the others who had died.

For Phi Squad, it wasn’t just a dedication. It was a memorial service for Ajax and Ca’ad.

Ka'rta, now the leader of his squad, always the second-in-command, spoke on Ajax’s behalf. As he stepped out of the crowd of figures clad in _beskar’gam,_ he removed his flame-painted helmet and tucked it carefully under his arm.

The medic began his speech, tears already glistening in his eye. “I thank you all for gathering here today. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. My only wish is that Ajax could have seen the true beauty in what he designed. We must always remember him—and every one of the clones whose names and numbers are remembered on this memorial.

“Ajax would have loved to see his creation come to life. He would also have loved to see all of you here today. Especially you, Tracker.”

The first tear struck the medic’s cheek, and he paused to collect himself.

“My sergeant gave his life in a heroic sacrifice that allowed us to escape Arca Barracks and the Empire that day. During this ceremony, remember who you will, but if you have no one else to remember, think of Ajax. He was truly _mandokarla._ He had all the makings of a true _Mando_ warrior.

“Let’s join hands and sing _Shi Taab’echaaj’la_.” At this point, his voice broke slightly, the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and salty. Ajax wasn’t here, to experience the beauty of his monument and the ceremony.

The chant was the most beautiful thing Ka'rta had ever heard. All one hundred voices, more than half of them clones’, raised in song. It was truly magical and healing in a way Ka'rta had longed for since hearing the scream in that corridor.

“ _Kote, darasuum kote.  
__Kandosii sa ka'rta,  
__Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad._

_  
Kote, darasuum kote.  
_ _Jorso'ran kando a tome.  
_ _Nu kyr'adyc,  
_ _Shi taab'echaaj'la._

_Kote, gar darasuum.  
_ _Mando’ade draar digu,  
_ _Gar tome’tayl.  
_ _Ni su’cuyi,  
_ _Gar kyr'adyc,  
_ _Ni par’tayli,  
_ _Gar darasuum._

_Acyk su’cuyir bal ash’amur,  
_ _Vi kar’tayli gar,  
_ _Nu kyr’am,  
_ _Su vode an.”_

Glory, eternal glory.  
One indomitable heart,  
forged like the saber in the fires of death.

Glory, eternal glory.  
We shall bear its weight together.  
Not gone,  
Merely marching far away.

Glory, yours forever.  
Mandalorians never forget,  
[Least of all] Your memory.  
I'm still alive,  
But you are dead.  
I remember you,  
So you are eternal.

Between living and dying,  
We remember you,  
Not dead,  
Still brothers all.

Many of the clones who were at Kyrimorut had their own brothers to remember, and were weeping openly for their losses. Despite the sobbing, the vocal music’s sweet harmony was purely beautiful.

Tracker, Buckler, and Ka'rta were sobbing heavily, Ajax’s passing still too fresh. They didn’t care what tomorrow held, nor did they know. Once again, the three knew loss, and they weren't invincible anymore. It was a terrible feeling, but their wounds would be healed with time. How much time, they didn't know.

Right then, the overwhelming beauty of the consecration was all that mattered. The past, the future, it was all irrelevant compared to the pure beauty of the music and the memorial. What tomorrow held was uncertain, and nobody was going to challenge it.


	11. Postscript: Empire Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of Phi Squad may be over, but there are still things for a special forces squad to do under the iron fist of the Empire...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: Enjoy your emotional catharsis for a bit, then come back and read this fun little short story. This is not an epilogue. The main plot of the story is complete. Please take care of yourselves and read this chapter if and only if you want to have some fun with the characters of Phi Squad.**

The stars fell to earth. Well, not literally, but close enough. The colorful sparks were really fireworks, but it was hard to tell the difference for Phi Squad from the edge of the forest near Keldabe, Mandalore.

"How do they do that, Buck?" Tracker asked his old friend. "All those colors. It's mesmerizing."

Buckler gazed through his visor, turning off the HUD. "It's a matter of what chemicals are in each layer, I think. Two layers, two colors. I could make my explosions look like that, easy."

"You'd be competing with a teenager in the Imperial Academy, I think," Ka'rta replied. "Sabine Wren, I think. She's getting quite a reputation for art and explosions."

"Oh, yeah," Buckler said, watching a red flare burst into a hundred sparks. "I've seen some of her graffiti around. Amazing that she can get away with it, being a cadet and all."

Tracker snorted. "I thought it's the fact she _is_ a cadet that lets her get away with it."

"So," Ka'rta prompted, "are we going to sit here watching the show, or get on with our mission?"

Buckler grinned underneath the stormtrooper helmet he was using for disguise. "I've got the charge prepped. Do you want me to fix it so it explodes a pretty shade of green?"

"Green always was your color," Tracker interjected, sliding down the hill towards the Imperial barracks on the outskirts of the town. "Still got the Katarn armor?"

"Of course I do," the demoman said, sliding after the sniper. "Along with Ajax's and Ca'ad's."

Ka'rta slid down the hill last. "I thought we agreed Ajax's armor was _mine_ now." Over the years since the end of the Clone Wars, he had slipped into the sergeant's role, not that he ever let any of the others call him "sarge" or even "boss."

"Technically," Buckler shot back. "I say all three of us own it, but you know how I am."

"Yeah, yeah," Ka'rta dismissed. "Let's get into that building so you can blow it sky high. I see a door control for you to slice over there."

A green explosion, not of Buckler's making, lit the walls in front of them, revealing the back door to the barracks. Buckler walked over to the control and began working. The building would be empty, as the garrison was out marching in the Empire Day parade. Some patriotic march floated over the air between explosions.

It was the tenth anniversary of the Declaration of a New Order, and the Empire's grip on Mandalore would never be stronger. Especially if Phi Squad had anything to say about it.

The door control turned from red to solid green, and as the three stepped forward, the door slid open for them.

"All right," Ka'rta said, leaning into a shockingly familiar hallway. "Now we just have to find the reactor and blow it up. Again. At least they don't vary their construction techniques."

"Why do we keep destroying this same building?" Tracker wondered. "They've built it back up three times now."

"It's fun," Buckler answered. "And I guess it keeps the local garrison busy and away from Kyrimorut."

"That's exactly why we keep doing this," Ka'rta explained. "If we keep them rebuilding their barracks, they'll stay off our backs. Simple as that."

"I guess it also might send the message we don't want them here," Buckler added, walking off towards the reactor. "And if they go away from Keldabe, they won't find Kyrimorut."

"They won't find the bastion anyway," Ka'rta countered. "It's too well hidden."

"Are you sure?" Tracker queried. "Half of Keldabe already knows where we are. It's not a well-kept secret."

"It's _not_ a well-kept secret, you're right," Ka'rta conceded. "But it's well-kept _from the Empire._ The half of Keldabe that knows is the half we can trust."

"Fair enough," relaxed Tracker. "Buck, you got the charge placed yet?"

"Almost," Buckler reported. "This stuff takes time, you know. Can't rush it—"

"Or it'll blow up in our faces," Tracker finished. "You've only told us half a million times."

Several fireworks went off in quick succession, creating a sound more like flak and blasterfire than any of the commandos had heard since the war ended.

" _Fierfek,_ those things are loud," Ka'rta commented. "Makes me feel like I need to be watching my back for tinnies."

"You probably do," replied a nonclone voice from behind them. "Step away from the reactor core. You three are under arrest."

Tracker spun around with his blaster lowered, facing the Imperial officer who had just revealed himself. They were using their ever-so-familiar DC-17ms for this raid, because they didn't want to get caught dead holding an _osikla_ E-11.

Ka'rta didn't surrender so easily, instead hiding his raised blaster behind Tracker's back.

"Down!" the leader yelled, slipping his finger into the familiar trigger guard of his Deece.

Tracker hit the deck before thinking about it, and it felt like he might have broken his nose from falling too hard. Even so, it was an acceptable casualty.

Ka'rta opened fire the instant his friend was down, hitting the officer who had ordered their surrender square in the chest, and the two flanking stormtroopers received the same treatment.

"Buck," the medic cautioned, "Tracker, let's get the _shab_ out of here. We've been caught with our armor around our ankles."

"Agreed," Tracker concurred, pushing himself off the ground. Blood poured out of his nose. It was definitely broken. Nothing they couldn't fix back at Kyrimorut, though.

"Charge is planted," Buckler reported, trotting back into view. "Whenever you're ready," he added, holding out the detonator for his longtime friend.

Ka'rta took the detonator and shoved it in his belt. "Let's get clear first. I don't trust this _di'kutla_ armor at all."

"Got it," replied the other two, walking leisurely towards the exit. Luckily, there were no more stormtroopers to greet them.

A minute later, they found the back door they had come in through, and strode through it. The sound of "Glory of the Empire," the ubiquitous anthem of the oppressive regime, floated into their helmets.

Ka'rta decided to time his detonation with a cadence in the music. The bright explosion of the barracks coincided perfectly with the grand finale of the fireworks show, and from their hilltop vantage point, the three clones admired the beauty of the scene in front of them.

Their colored explosion paired nicely with the pyrotechnic seal of the Empire high above.

"Buck," Ka'rta chided, "I thought I told you _not_ to make it explode green."

Buckler smiled at his friend. "Couldn't resist. It's Empire Day, after all."

"Don't remind me," Tracker grinned sarcastically. "I've hated this day for ten years."

"So have we," Ka'rta informed. "That doesn't mean we can't enjoy the celebration, though."

"Let's head home," Buckler suggested. "Before they catch up to us."

The other two agreed, and the squad disappeared into the forest.


End file.
